Danny Phantom and the Ministerial Acquisition
by Vexel
Summary: Danny Fenton was just hoping to finish his seventh year with his head down and NEWT scores higher than a Troll. That was before he was summoned in front of the MACUSA with the less-than-friendly order to detain the notorious murderer, Sirius Black, by any means.
1. The Letter

Chapter 1: The Letter

ΔOl

'Hey, Danny? Danny! You've got a letter!'

Danny jolted from where he had been staring listlessly at the wall of his bedroom. His best friend, Tucker, was waving a hand wildly at his face, staring at him from behind a pair of thick square glasses.

"What?" Danny asked intelligently.

Tucker rolled his eyes, adjusting his customary red knit-cap from where it was perched on his head and pointed outside. Glancing at the window, Danny spotted his sorrily-named owl, Spooky, whose feathers were drooping rather pathetically in the humid evening air. Quickly he stood and strode toward the window, prying it open and allowing Spooky to hop inside, looking disgruntled as she extended a leg. There was an envelope, his name scrawled on the front in precise handwriting he didn't recognise.

'What is it?' Tucker asked from Danny's desk where a miniature battlefield was splayed out.

They had been locked away upstairs for the better part of the last few days, spending the final week of summer vacation playing their favourite game, Doom. It wasn't meant to be a board game, but Danny's magic had a nasty habit of shorting out electronics and Tucker had banned him from playing with him after he had destroyed his favourite console when they were twelve. It had taken weeks for Tucker to forgive Danny, and that was only after he had figured out how to use his magic to make a real-life version of the game, complete with tiny lifelike characters that took fervour in hacking each other's heads off.

Danny fingered the envelope in his grip. It was made of thick parchment much like the MACUSA liked to use, 'I don't know.'

Untying the letter from Spooky's ankle he gave her a happy scratch under the chin, who gave a hoot as he lowered her to the desk beside the battlefield where his level-nine mage lay decapitated and twitching. She waddled over to Tucker, cooing softly to him, before snatching the last slice of his mega-mighty-meat pizza right out of his hands.

Danny ignored Tucker's outraged cry, flipping the envelope over. It was old and yellowed, with a crimson wax seal forming the letter H. Slipping a thumb under the lip he tugged it open. A piece of parchment slipped out, with small neat handwriting scrawled across it.

ΔOl

 _Dear Mr Fenton,_

 _I am personally writing to you to request your attendance to this school year's upcoming Tetrawizard tournament, along with your classmates and the delegates from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons. The tournament is to be held at Hogwarts from October the 30th. Wizards over the age of seventeen may compete in the trials where the winner will be rewarded one thousand galleons and the promise of eternal glory._

 _I look forward to meeting you,_

 _Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore,_

 _Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

ΔOl

Tucker had been reading over his shoulder, 'Hogwarts? What kind of name is that for a school?'

But Danny wasn't interested in that. Flopping onto his bed he turned the parchment over, hoping to glimpse anything else, but it was blank.

'Albus Dumbledore… Do you think the Headmaster personally invites everyone to this thing?'

'Mustn't have much to do if he's writing invitations to every wizard in town.' Tucker rolled his eyes, 'Who is he?'

'Don't really remember. He sounds familiar – probably saw him on a chocolate frog or something. I'd have to ask Sam.'

Tucker didn't reply. He didn't really like to talk about Sam. In fact, Danny knew he didn't really like her at all. Sam was a pale, dark-haired girl who didn't know the first thing about no-maj's, although she took great flourish in teaching the uninitiated all about the wonders of magic, which annoyed Tucker to no end.

There had always been an underlying layer of jealousy since Danny received his letter for Casper Magical Seminary on his eleventh birthday. Tucker had glowered at him for weeks following the invitation, hissing under his breath until Danny had simply learned to not mention anything about magic.

Sam, however, had no qualms and constantly put it upon herself to teach Tucker everything there was to know about the wonders of the wizarding world. Danny knew she never intended to be malicious or cruel, it was just simply that she didn't understand what it was like to live without magic.

Danny had met Sam in his first year at Casper. She was loud and brash and didn't like anyone disagreeing with her. She came from a long line of famous seers and had an annoying habit of 'getting lost in the sight' whenever Danny told her something she didn't want to hear. But despite that, she had been one of Danny's best friends since the moment they met despite his less-than-illustrious background.

It was still rare to see a maji-born in America. After all, interactions with them had been banned by the MACUSA following an upsurge of witch hunts in the1920ss. It wasn't until the capture of the infamous dark wizard, Gellert Grindelwald, in 1945 that the Congress had even considered allowing wizards to befriend a no-maj; and still almost fifty years later the magical world was both frightened and angry with no-maj's. In result, education available for maji-borns, wizards born of non-magical parents, was rare and far between. When Danny had started school, he hadn't been aware of this. So, fresh-faced and eager to learn, he had arrived at Casper only to be met with the scorn of his fellow classmates and many of his teachers.

Sam had been the only person to offer her hand in friendship. It wasn't uncommon for Danny to be stuffed into lockers or tripped in the hallways – some of the students even found it funny to fling curses or jinxes at his back that often sent him hobbling to the healer's room. The first time Danny had met Sam, he had been strung up on a wall sconce, two metres high without his wand and fifteen minutes late for Charms. With a quick mutter of 'Wingardium Leviosa', Sam had floated him safely to the ground with a curious smile.

Danny didn't know if she had pitied him or just saw him as an interesting project, but she was smart and had a wicked sense of humour. He refused to acknowledge how pretty she was though, even now as his stomach flipped at the thought of her.

Tucker tugged the letter from his grasp and asked with a hint of jealousy in his tone, 'What about this tournament? D'you think you're gonna join? Eternal glory sounds pretty nice.'

Danny gave a short, sarcastic bark, snatching the parchment back, 'Why? Just to give Dash and the rest of his cronies another reason to laugh at me? No thanks."

Crumpling the letter, he flung it at the wastebasket by his desk. It missed.

ΔOl

This is the alternate perspective of Danny Fenton from my other story 'Harry Potter and the Phantom Calling'. I was a little bit frustrated with how I had written the previous story as I felt it was missing some creative essence and was majority just paraphrased text, so I'm taking this opportunity to really flesh out the world.

If you haven't read my other story, don't worry - this one will be rehashing the existing story from Harry's perspective in a much clearer light, and, if you do end up reading 'The Phantom Calling' later, you'll be able to get some fun teasing correlation between the two. Enjoy!


	2. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Chapter 2: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

ΔOl

A week later announced Danny's return to Casper Magical Seminary; it was his seventh and final year. Excitement vibrated through him, sending tremors through his spine at the prospect that soon he would be free to do what he wanted without a professor breathing down his neck and scrutinising every wave of his wand, or have Dash Baxter lauding over him whenever he zipped past on his Nimbus 2001 broomstick.

Wedged in the centre of an oblivious no-maj town called Amity Park, Casper Magical Seminary was the smallest of the elite four. It was only two stories high with a red-brick and marble façade that preceded over a large Quidditch pitch on the far side of the fields. Constructed under the order of the MACUSA in the mid-fifties following a regime to promote wizard relations with no-maj society, it was the only school in America that didn't offer boarding. Instead, all its student commuted, either by Floo powder or side-along apparition. Danny, who lived just a few blocks away, walked.

Dodging past no-majs on their way to work, chatting away on clunky black blocks with antennas, he passed through the enchanted gates and trundled up the front steps just as the warning bell rang.

'Danny!' a voice called. Sam was waving a hand at him over a pair of dawdling third years.

Her uniform, in contrast to Danny's white button down, red argyle sweater-vest and pressed navy pants, was dyed pitch-black. Her boots thumped heavily as she came to a halt beside Danny, snatching his arm in a grip so tight that it made him wince.

'Er, hey, Sam. How was your vacation break?" he asked. She ignored him, tugging incessantly at his arm.

'C'mon,' she whispered excitedly, nearly bouncing in her boots, 'All the seniors are being called into the Great Hall – they've got some sort of big announcement!'

Before he could reply, she was already dragging him through the corridors. The Great Hall was a large room, with trees and flowers that burst from the walls in flourishes of colour. Beams of sunshine tumbled through the canopy, sending light bouncing off large bronze tables speckled throughout. A long bench that looked to be carved from the gnarled root of an ancient oak tree stood at the front of the room. Danny looked around to see the rest of the seventh graders and a few of the sixth graders milling around, murmuring to each other with confusion evident on their faces. Sam and Danny took a seat at one of the tables at the back of the room.

Headmistress Ishiyama stood at the front with Professor Tetslaff, a boorish woman who was renowned for giving physically arduous detentions, and another older man who Danny thought looked outlandish even by wizarding standards. Ishiyama was a stout woman with slick black hair and neat midnight-blue robes and who appeared rather underwhelming next to the strange wizard dressed in an eclectic mix of mulberry and apricot, complete with a tall, forest-green hat perched on top of his head. His silvery beard was so long that he had tucked it into the belt wrapped around his waist and a pair of half-moon glasses were perched on top of a nose that looked quite crooked, like it had been broken but never properly fixed.

Ishiyama raised a hand and the room quickly fell silent, "I would first like to say welcome back, students, to our esteemed school. You might be under the belief that this will be your final year attending Casper Magical Seminary, however, I am here to announce that this first month may be your last.'

Danny and Sam shared a look. Ishiyama appeared almost boastful, her chest swelling with pride and authority, Tetslaff looked the same. But it was the old man that made him pause – he was staring right at him, with sharp blue eyes that seemed as if they were boring into his soul.

Danny looked away.

Ishiyama nodded to Tetslaff, who pulled out an old piece of parchment and barked out, 'Casper has been given the opportunity to participate in a centuries-old tradition of the newly renamed Tetrawizard Tournament, held on the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. One student is selected from each of the four competing schools and claimed as champion, where they will be faced with three challenges…'

Danny already knew this, the letter from the mysterious man named Dumbledore had already told him enough that he shouldn't have any part in it. He had thought about it all last week – it had kept him up at night, but in the end, he knew he wouldn't be able to go. Amity Park was his home, and ever since the 'accident' in fourth grade he knew he couldn't go even if he had wanted to leave.

Sam pinched his arm, making him yelp loudly. A few juniors looked over and sniggered, but he ignored them, 'Ouch! What was that for, Sam?'

'The assembly is over,' she said, standing up, 'Here. Tetslaff came around while you were daydreaming and gave us our schedules.'

Danny unfurled the slip of parchment she offered and moaned, 'Aw, man! I've got double History of American Magic first up! Then Arithmancy, followed by double Mysteries of Magical Maladies! That's Lancer, Felucca and Tetslaff all in one day!'

Sam whistled low, 'Aren't they your worst classes? That's tough.'

'Not to mention I only have Astronomy on Thursdays… at two in the morning. What have you got?' Danny mumbled hopefully.

Sam looked down at her sheet sadly, 'I don't think we've got any classes together this year. I've got No-maj Studies, Charms and Care of Magical Creatures today.'

Danny gave another forlorn groan, slumping further into his chair. He jumped when a voice barked out, 'Fenton!'

Tetslaff was making her way over with a crease between her heavy brows. The strange old man was gliding not far behind.

Danny rose and was surprised to find that the old man stood nearly as tall as him. Tetslaff was only a few inches shorter but was much more imposing with her stern frown and bulging muscles.

'This is Professor Albus Dumbledore,' Tetslaff began, 'He apparently needs to talk to you. Manson, get to class.'

Sam scowled deeply before sending a worried look in Danny's direction. He gave her a wavering smile and she reluctantly left the hall with the other students. Danny turned to look at Dumbledore, feeling a little stunned. This was the man that send him the letter about the tournament? What could he possibly want from him?

'So, what've you done this time, Fenton?' Tetslaff scowled shoving a finger in Danny's face, 'I've warned you before about your idiotic pranks and now the Headmaster of Hogwarts – which is in England, might I add – wants to have a word with you? You're lucky if you don't end up in detention for the rest of the year after this!'

Danny felt his innards sink into the pit of his stomach. He hadn't even attended one class yet and he was already bound to be scrubbing the bathrooms without magic until he graduated – _if_ he graduated.

'No, no, Professor, you have yourself confused. Mr Fenton isn't in any trouble,' Dumbledore said. He had a soft voice that spoke with an underlying tone of authority, 'I just need to talk to him on some matters pertaining to him in private. I expect it will take quite a great deal of time, would you be so kind as to excuse him for the rest of the day?'

'The rest of the day?' Tetslaff sputtered as if Dumbledore had just announced blasphemy, 'But the school year has just started!'

Dumbledore nodded his head, 'I am aware that the school year has begun, but this conversation is of uttermost importance and I need to speak to Mr Fenton with a rather dire urgency.'

'If you need to speak to one of our students, we have ones with much better records. Maybe someone who actually has a chance of passing his classes—'

Danny, who was used to this treatment said nothing, but Dumbledore gave a soft frown.

'No, thank you,' he replied diplomatically, 'Mr. Fenton is exactly the wizard I need. In fact, it might surprise you how capable he is if given the right guidance. I expect that you will fill him in on any work his missed today when he returns.'

Before Tetslaff could reply, Dumbledore placed a hand on Danny's shoulder and led him out of the room, humming softly to himself. Danny didn't dare glance back even as they stepped out past the Quidditch pitch to the copse of trees on the far side of the school.

'Er, sir? What did you need to speak to me about?' Danny asked, feeling rather off-kilter.

Dumbledore shook his head, the tall hat waggling about, 'Not here, Mr Fenton. We might be overheard. Now, please, if you would hold onto my arm. That's right, hold it tightly and make certain that you don't let go.'

'What—?'

Before he could finish an uncomfortable sensation overcame Danny, as if he was being stretched thin like taffy and stuffed through a narrow tube. The world whirled around him in a vivid splash of colours before it all came to a ramming halt. His knees buckled, sending him stumbling into a nearby wall, breath harsh and head spinning.

'Where are we?' he gasped, eyes rolling wildly in their sockets. There were buildings looming over forty stories high. Yellow taxis littered the congested streets and people shouted angrily at each other through car windows, honking horns. Tourists were ambling about, heads bent over large maps with disposable cameras wrapped around their throats, 'Are we in New York?'

'We are indeed, Mr Fenton,' Dumbledore said not looking at all put-out, 'Come. Why don't we try and find a place that serves tea? It would be best to try and calm our nerves before we face the MACUSA.'

'The MACUSA?' Danny asked, flabbergasted, 'What are we meeting them for? Are you sure I'm not in trouble?'

Dumbledore chuckled softly, 'Certainly not, Mr Fenton. Now come along, I believe somebody once told me that there is a charming café a few streets down from Madison Avenue that serves the most wonderful finger sandwiches.'

The Headmaster strode onto the pavement, giving a jaunty hello to a passing local, who grunted in his direction. Danny followed, feeling rather conspicuous in his school uniform walking with a man in purple and orange robes. Nobody seemed to pay any attention, however; the tourists were all too busy pointing at landmarks and the locals just didn't seem to care.

The café was far from what Danny would call charming. Tucked behind a narrow alleyway, it was old and run down with paint peeling off the walls and the carpet was covered in ambiguous stains and overall smelt faintly of cats. Dumbledore seated himself into one of the tables farthest from the door, picking up a coffee-stained menu and peeling the pages open.

'Please pick whatever you like, Mr Fenton.'

He offered a menu out to Danny who grimaced. 'No, I'm good.'

Dumbledore turned back to his own menu. A waiter looking very bored strode over, pulling a stub of a pencil from behind his ear.

'Wha'cha want?' he asked brusquely.

'I think a nice cup of chamomile tea would do nicely, thank you. And a platter of cucumber sandwiches.'

The waiter turned to Danny, 'You?'

'Nothing, thanks.'

The waiter left and Dumbledore placed the menu back on the table, being careful not to lean his elbow into a mysterious puddle by the cutlery pot.

'I have to admit that I am surprised. You are not at all like how I expected you to be.' Dumbledore smiled at Danny's expression, 'Do not look so concerned. It is by far an improvement from what I had initially envisioned.'

'What were you expecting me to be like?'

Dumbledore untucked a newspaper from the sleeve of his robe like magic, and Danny wouldn't have been surprised if it had been some sort of concealing charm. Dumbledore calmly flattened it on the table and Danny found himself staring at a blurred image of a boy that looked remarkably similar to him, but the dark hair was white and the figure's eyes glowed an ethereal green.

His tongue turned to sandpaper as he stared at the photograph. The article was dated almost three years ago with the headline, 'Danny Phantom: Hero or Hoax?'

'What's this got to do with me?' Danny choked out.

'You don't have to feign ignorance, Mr Fenton,' Dumbledore said in a reassuring voice, those blue eyes piercing into his again, 'I have no plans to expose your secret, not after seeing the lengths you've taken to conceal it.'

The waiter returned, thumping down a chipped cup and saucer and a plate of poorly cut sandwiches. Danny snatched the newspaper from off the table with bated breath as the waiter turned away, disappearing into the kitchen.

'Ah, for shame. They left the crust on.'

'I don't know what you're talking about,' Danny growled low, glaring at Dumbledore.

But the older man didn't seem to hear him, lifting his tea to his lips, 'It took me a long time to make the connection myself. I will admit that I only came across your identity by sheer coincidence. You see, after the passing of my good friend Nicholas Flammel—'

Danny frowned, 'Flammel? Didn't he create some sort of Sorcerer's stone that gave eternal life?'

Dumbledore eyebrows rose as he murmured, 'The Philosopher's stone, yes… After he died, I decided to research different manners of approaching immortality – for educational purposes only,' he added quickly at Danny's aghast expression, 'I searched throughout entire libraries for answers not finding a single hint, when one day I came across a simple muggle magazine while buying sweets.'

'Muggle?' Danny asked, the word feeling foreign on his tongue.

'No-maj,' Dumbledore clarified, 'On the cover, I saw a picture of a boy with his family, and a photograph of a gorilla; believed to be only one of two of its kind. This story stood out to me because the purple-backed gorilla is actually not endangered at all but thriving in a magical sanctuary in East Africa – but that's beside the point.'

The older man took another sip of his tea. Danny stared at him with wide eyes, his knuckles white as they gripped the lip of the suspiciously sticky table. Dumbledore returned the cup to his saucer before reaching for a sandwich. Danny gave the hand a quick slap, making the man withdraw with a twinkle in his eyes.

'What's the point then?' Danny snapped impatiently, dragging the plate out of Dumbledore's grasp.

'Oh, yes. Well, the article offered an interesting background of information pertaining your parents' careers, including all of their most prominent accomplishments and creations, particularly one which was believed to be a 'gateway' of sorts?'

'The Ghost Portal?'

Dumbledore smiled tolerantly as if a toddler had just told him the sky was blue, 'Yes, I do believe that was what it was called. It spurred me on to make further discoveries about what your parents were capable of and, in my research, I discovered quite a few anomalies – far too many for me to overlook. It was then that I discovered that you and your terrible attendance record and poor grades coincided with many prominent appearances of the infamous Danny Phantom.'

Dumbledore laced his fingers together and stared at him hard, 'One such appearance was the capture of a highly dangerous dark wizard, Hellacroix Hudson, the exact same day you skipped out on your Charms exam with no reasonable excuse.'

'That still doesn't prove anything,' Danny gritted out. He could feel the blood rushing from his face, leaving him light-headed.

'No,' Dumbledore admitted, 'But it was what led me to notice you, Danny – obviously your likeness, but also your attitude and determination. Especially now it is discordantly obvious.'

Dumbledore leaned across the table and plucked a sandwich from the plate, taking a polite bite. Danny stared at him for a long time.

'What do you want?' he asked eventually.

Dumbledore smiled, 'Nothing.'

'Nothing?' Danny spat.

'I have no want for anything as of right now, however, there has been a request from the Ministry for you to submit your services. Or, to put it more transparently, they want Phantom.'

Danny glanced nervously over his shoulder at the empty room before hissing out, 'Why now? What would the MACUSA need from me? I haven't done anything!'

Dumbledore shook his head, 'No, Mr Fenton, it is not the MACUSA in need of your services.'

'But you just said—'

'Prominent members of the British Ministry of Magic have requested for you personally to be transferred to help in the aid and capture of a wizard that has escaped from Azkaban. There is a meeting at MACUSA Headquarters concerning it starting in about… oh, ten minutes or so.'

'British? As in England? I can't go there!'

'Don't worry, you'll mostly be in Scotland.'

Danny didn't find that detail to be as comforting as Dumbledore obviously thought.

'I'm pretty sure people would notice if I suddenly decided to take a hop, skip and a jump across the pond the exact same time as Danny Phantom!'

'It would be far less suspicious if you were to attend the Tetrawizard Tournament with the rest of your classmates. After all, you are the sole reason I reintroduced the competition.'

Danny stared at him, overwhelmed, 'Wait a minute, you brought back the tournament just to keep my secret? A tournament that's been banned for, like… three hundred years?'

'Precisely that.'

He scrubbed his hands across his face roughly, feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on before he heaved a groan, 'Do I get a choice?'

'Mr. Fenton,' Dumbledore stared at him with hard eyes, 'Everyone has a choice, but it's up to you to decide whether you believe that choice is the right one or simply the one with the least consequences.'

'Well, what would you do then?'

'Myself? I would have another cucumber sandwich,' Dumbledore admitted. Danny couldn't tell if he was being serious, but disgruntledly shoved the platter toward the table.

'Thank you, my dear boy.' Dumbledore granted him with a sincere smile as he picked up a square, carefully tearing off the crust and popping it into his mouth, chewing slowly. Tucking his hand back into his sleeve, he pulled out a palmful of crisp no-maj notes and placed them on the filthy tabletop.

'Remind me never to take hospitality recommendations from Elphric Fundwrest. I am concerned he will be having me bunking with a banshee next,' he turned to Danny, 'Should I return you home?'

'No,' Danny said finitely, 'Let's go visit the MACUSA.'

ΔOl


	3. The MACUSA

Chapter 3: The Magical Congress of the United States of America

ΔOl

The MACUSA building was nothing like what Danny expected. It was tall and imposing but overall looked no different from any of the other towering structures surrounding it, housing the headquarters for a rather popular fashion magazine.

Smartly-dressed no-majs flittered in and out of the revolving doors, oblivious to where Dumbledore and Danny stood off to the side – not that they could see Danny if they tried. Cloaked in invisibility, he had been carefully trailing behind the wizard, tracking the tall hat bobbing throughout the sea of people.

The Headmaster came to an abrupt stop short of the doors, nearly sending Danny colliding into his back.

'Why aren't we going in?' Danny hissed. Dumbledore ignored him, choosing to approach somebody on the far end of the building dressed in a doorkeeper's uniform.

'Albus Dumbledore,' he stated to the man, 'I have business with the President.'

The doorkeeper bowed low before turning to open a small, unassuming door behind him, ushering Dumbledore through. Danny swept in behind before the door was shut with a sharp clack.

He was met with an entirely different building than the one he had glimpsed through the doors outside. The MACUSA atrium was ginormous. Tall cathedral-like ceilings loomed overhead with industrial metal beams crisscrossing left and right, the staircases a garishly beautiful combination of marble, metal and gold. Two gilt bald eagles stood vigilant over the room, spanning over ten feet high, their heads twisting left and right at every suspicious movement. The whole building looked like the innards of a gigantic clock.

Danny nearly dropped his invisibility as a paper mouse scarpered underfoot, squeaking furiously before diving into a parcel porthole nearby. Wizards and witches fluttered past them in a hurry, wands waving as towering stacks of paper wobbled precariously behind them. Others were tucked in compartments where they tapped away on ancient typewriters.

'Come along, Danny,' Dumbledore said, leading the way up a grand flight of stairs where a house elf was seated at the top, offering complimentary wand-cleanings. Danny floated behind him, squeezing into an ancient-looking elevator manned by an equally ancient-looking goblin in a bell-boy uniform.

'The Ministry Ordinance room, if you please,' Dumbledore asked the goblin politely, who rolled his eyes and lifted a gnarled cane up toward the gleaming row of buttons, typing in a combination.

'I suggest you hold onto something,' Dumbledore murmured under his breath, but before Danny could ask why the elevator gave a violent jolt before it was flung backwards with an amazing force nearly sending him careening straight out of the box. Just as he found his feet, the elevator took a sharp turn, and Danny had the unique sense of his insides trying to escape through his throat as the floor fell beneath them.

It stopped just as quickly as it started, and Danny's feet landed with a heavy thump as the world span around him. 'Ugh,' he couldn't help but groan loudly.

'What was that?' barked the goblin, not looking at all put out by the ride.

'Hm? What was what?' Dumbledore said faintly. He ran a hand through his long beard in an attempt to make it appear less windswept. Danny didn't bother trying to fix his own hair.

'Nothin'.' The goblin bellboy grunted, slamming the door shut behind him and punching in another code to zoom off out of sight.

The corridor they stood in was narrow and dark. There were no windows and Danny had a rising sense of anxiousness as he stared at the single door at the end of the way.

'Come along, Danny,' Dumbledore said congenially, traipsing down the length of the corridor. Danny followed, taking deep breaths like Jazz always suggested when he was nervous or stressed.

The door creaked open of its own accord, and Danny was greeted to a small amphitheatre with tiered seating lining the room. The sconces on the walls glowed a soft blue and nearly a hundred faces stared down at the narrow flooring designed as a stage below, features cast so deep into shadow that Danny couldn't recognise a single face. Only the tips of their tall pointed hats evident.

At the head of the room stood somebody Danny recognised from Mr Lancer's numerous, mind-numbing history lessons. There, in all his thin-haired and mousey glory, stood President Samuel Quahog; a man whose bottom lip was renowned for quivering whenever he was nervous. Currently, the President looked as though he was going to bite his tongue in half with how ferociously his jaw was wobbling as his watery eyes flittered off to the side, toward where a man wearing a lime green bowler hat sat beside an older woman who permeated no-nonsense.

'Good day, Sir President,' Dumbledore called cheerily, sweeping his way into the room. Danny swiftly followed behind, still cloaked in invisibility, his heightened hearing catching the sound of the enchanted door clicking shut behind them.

A flurry of murmurs enveloped the crowd and Danny saw the man in the bowler hat frown in Dumbledore's direction as if the sight of the older man displeased him.

'Oh, Albus! Pleasure to see you, good fellow!' Quahog squeaks out is a soft voice, stepping down from his tier to shake Dumbledore's hand, 'Though, I must admit I am a little confused as to why you are here.'

'Yes, I think we all are,' scoffed the man in the bowler hat, 'We are here to speak on a rather important matter today, Dumbledore. Very important.'

'Ah, yes. The contract for the conferral of a Mr Daniel Phantom to the British Ministry of Magic, I believe, Fudge?'

The man's face became a blotchy purple that clashed horribly with the green perched on his head, 'H-how did you—?'

'This meeting was supposed to be a rather private matter, Albus,' Quahog muttered out weakly, wringing his hands. 'Nobody outside of this room was to know about it.'

'Ah, my apologies. However, I thought it would be rather important that some outside of this room knew of the situation at hand. Specifically, the one this meeting pertains to. Danny, if you would please?'

Licking his suddenly dry lips, Danny let his invisibility drip away. The President let out a violent squawk, nearly jumping half a foot in the air and setting his bottom lip into another bout of violent quavering. A flustered rush of noise surrounded him as witches and wizards alike craned their necks to get a closer look at him.

Danny gazed into the wave of faces all gawping down at him with fear and confusion, before he caught the stare of an eerie-looking man with mismatched eyes; one eye a dark beady black and the other electric blue eye that sat bulging in its socket, swivelling in every direction. A chunk of his nose was missing and the scars that littered his face left deep gouges in the low light. Danny quickly turned away.

'Sir President, I am certain that you already know of Mr Phantom, yes?' Dumbledore stated in an amused tone.

Danny offered a hesitant wave, 'Hey.'

Quahog looked about ready to keel over in shock before another wizard trotted over to haul him back up onto his platform.

'Why, Albus! You brought the creature here? Whatever reason why?' Burst out Fudge in alarm.

Danny scowled. Creature?

'Now, now, Minister. I see no harm in Phantom being here – quite the opposite in fact. He might give you some insight into how best to approach the situation,' Dumbledore hummed.

The no-nonsense woman stood abruptly and strode forward, 'Never mind that,' she states in a steely voice, 'What's done is done. We may as well continue on with the discussion despite. Dumbledore, Ministers, I suggest you take your seats.'

Dumbledore smiled at Danny before he strolled up into the tiers, seating himself beside the man with the odd eyes and hideous scars. Quahog nearly fainted into his own seat off to the side, an assistant magicking a small fan to blow air into his pallid face. The woman strode forward to stand on the platform, transfiguring a magistrate's bench from a piece of parchment as a carved gavel swooped into her hand.

She peered down her nose at Danny, who was beginning to feel almost more nervous than Quahog, 'My name is Amelia Bones, representative of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement for the Ministry of Magic in Great Britain. It is my role today to review your capacity.'

Danny swallowed thickly, 'My capacity?'

'Of capturing dark wizards, Mr Phantom. You have a recorded history with the MACUSA, no?'

'A couple of times, yeah,' Danny shrugged uncertainly, 'But—'

'For the records could you please state your species?'

'My species? Seriously?'

Bones indeed was very serious. Danny let out an exhausted huff.

'I'm an Animus.'

'Could you expand on what that is for the sake of myself and the audience.'

'Am I on trial or something?' Danny snarled.

Bones raised an eyebrow, 'No, Mr Phantom. Like I stated before this is merely a review of your capacity. It is important for all that are partaking to understand who and what you are so that we may find a conclusion.'

'Sounds like a trial to me,' he muttered before relenting, 'I don't know. I guess an Animus sort of like looking at your reflection.'

'Your reflection?' Bones quirked an eyebrow.

'Yeah, I mean, what do you see when you look in a mirror?'

'You see yourself.' A voice offered from the stands. Danny shook his head.

'Not _really_. I mean, sure, they look like you and move like you, but it's not really _you._ ' He could feel the stares of the room.

'Are you insinuating that our reflections are someone else entirely, Phantom?' Bones asked curtly.

He shrugged, 'Maybe. I think so, at least. It's just always been weird to me that when you wave at a mirror, the other hand waves back.'

Murmurs swept through the room. A few of the witches magicked small mirrors from their satchels, waving hesitantly to themselves.

'How does an Animus appear?' Bones cut through the noise, her cool voice like a blade.

'No one really knows. Sometimes people die, and I guess their reflections don't have anywhere to go. Other times they just appear, like magic.'

'I was with the understanding that Animus were simply copies of ourselves, is that correct? How does that make you different from a ghost?' Bones asked, 'Are they not just shades of a person once living?'

He frowned, 'Not really. I mean, yeah, we get mistaken a lot because of the whole floating thing, but it's not like we can't interact with stuff. And really – like, c'mon, I'm not stuck in a time-loop like those lame sob-stories. I'm my own person, I still think and feel.'

Bones gave him a very peculiar look as if she had come to a conclusion that had surprised herself.

'It is to my understanding that Animi have other… abilities as well. Is that correct, Mr Phantom?' Fudge called out gleefully, 'Yours particularly are rather impressive.'

Danny rolled his eyes with a snort, 'Can you just tell me what I'm here for already?'

'We are looking for the capture of one particular wizard,' Bones offered, 'A man by the name of Sirius Black, whose crimes involve the release of classified intel to an infamous wizard—'

'Which wizard?' Danny interrupted.

'We do not speak his name.'

'That's helpful. Is this one of those don't ask, don't tell things?'

Bones ignored him, 'Sirius Black in turn also murdered his close friend and twelve muggles in clear sight of a non-magical community.'

'Oh. Er, okay...'

Bones continued, 'Sirius Black was supposed to live out the rest of his sentence in Azkaban, however last year he managed to escape. He is a dangerous and powerful man, and we find that it is of utmost importance that he is recaptured immediately, and for that we will need your help.'

Danny's head seemed to be absorbing information at only half its normal rate. He had captured dark wizards before, but nothing like this; he took down extremist blood puritans and black-marketers, not mass-murderers.

Taking a deep breath, Danny offered, 'Look, I don't really think I'm right for this job…'

Amelia Bones stared down at him with steely eyes, 'But this is what you do, isn't it? Capture dark wizards?'

'W-well, yeah, but…'

There was a hushed round of muttering from the audience that made his ears turn pink. He glanced up to see Fudge looking smug in his seat, but there was also a glimpse of impatience.

Bones pulled out a long sheet of parchment, 'Rebbek, Maverson, Vukovic, Brimble… You've collected an impressive number of names in a relatively short time. No failures in a capture, although you seem to have a habit of not following orders…'

'Can we hurry this along, Bones? I don't have all day for this nonsense! Just ship him off to Britain already!' barked Fudge.

Danny scowled. He was really beginning to dislike the Minister.

'Very well. All for having Daniel—'

'It's Danny,' he muttered quickly.

'—Phantom inaugurated as a temporary affiliate of the British Department of Magical Law Enforcement, under the agreement with the Magical Congress of the United States of America?'

Danny turned and watched as a multitude of hands soared into the air.

'All against?' The hands lowered to be replaced by the remaining few in the room.

'Very well, it is decided. Daniel Phantom, until further investigation you are to be classified as a dangerous creature and to be placed on probation until proven otherwise by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement—'

'What? Hey! You can't just—!'

'...You are to refer to Head Auror, Rufus Scrimgeour, every two weeks for the duration of your stay in Britain's magical community, with your sole focus being to capture Sirius Black, who has been charged for the murder of thirteen victims...'

The room seemed to tilt sideways and Danny's focus shifted in a swirl of light and dark. Dimly, he heard Bones adjourning the room and Quahog humbly accepting the British Minister's gratitude for his assistance in their endeavour. Fudge had a slight scowl on his face but still tipped his hat cordially to Bones, sweeping out the door with the other witches and wizards who nervously shuffled past.

Danny barely noticed when Dumbledore firmly gripped his arm to lead him out of the room, out of the corridor, out of the elevator and out of the building. He was only pulled back into reality when the sickening, squeezing sensation of Apparition flooded him, leaving him gasping for air as he fell to his knees. They had landed in Central Park, hidden by a small cluster of trees.

'What was that?' Danny scowled, light washing over him to return him to his normal state.

'Hm? Oh, my apologies. I did attempt to warn you that we were travelling, but you seemed rather distracted…'

'Not that!' Danny leapt up, brushing dirt off his knees, 'The review! I thought you said it would be good if I went! Now everything is ten times worse!'

'On the contrary, Danny. I believe that your brief appearance has actually swayed many months of deliberation over you.'

'What d'you mean?'

'I can assure you that many witches and wizards were under the impression that you were nothing more than a mindless, obsessive beast—'

'Oh, so you're saying they trust me now? That didn't stop them from assigning me a babysitter to pop in every other week.'

'Which is in my belief a far better outcome than what the Ministry originally had planned. Minister Fudge would most certainly have assigned an Auror to follow you, every hour of every day.'

'You're kidding.'

Dumbledore shook his head, 'I'm afraid not. Luckily, Amelia Bones is both fair and an excellent judge of character.' He must have read Danny's scepticism as he continued, 'Fudge may have appeared pleased with the results of today's meeting; however, he wasn't granted what he truly wanted.'

'And what's that?' Danny asked.

'Complete control over your abilities,' barked out a rough voice that made him jump.

The man seated next to Dumbledore in the review was hobbling his way over. Danny could see now that he only had one foot. Where his other should have been was replaced with a claw-footed wooden peg. His face wasn't any better in broad daylight – the scars littering his face looked jagged and white. Danny could only imagine that they were the result of a particularly nasty curse.

'What's he doing here?' Danny sputtered.

'Saving your buttocks, that's what!' The man growled back. Danny could barely understand him through his gravelly Scottish burr.

Dumbledore calmly bowed his head at the man, 'Danny Fenton, may I introduce to you Alastor Moody. One of the finest Aurors the British Ministry has ever seen.'

'Ex-Auror,' Moody spat, 'They can't seem to let me keep my peace though, can they? Dragging me back for the stupidest reasons. Like that pathetic excuse for a meeting.'

'I'm certain we both appreciate your exertions, Alastor.'

'Do I?' Danny muttered cynically.

Moody raised his remaining eyebrow at him, 'A sceptic, eh? Good. It's important to keep your wits about you. Constant vigilance!'

Dumbledore turned to Danny, 'Alastor has been working these last few months to deter the Ministry from discovering your secret.'

'So… he knows?'

'Of course I know! You think I lost my nose by not sticking it into other people's business? Once Dumbledore pointed out the similarities it wasn't difficult to put together the rest. After that, it was my job to make sure nobody else got it, got it?'

'Got it.' Danny parroted.

'Alastor has kindly agreed to take up the position as professor for Defence Against the Dark Arts this year at Hogwarts, in hopes that he will be able to aid you whenever I cannot.' Dumbledore said.

There was a sharp downward tug and Danny found himself eye to magical eye with Moody, who had a gnarled hand tightly gripping his shirt collar, 'Now I want you to listen, boy, this is important; The phoenix will always rise from the ashes. Repeat it back to me.'

'The phoenix will always rise from the ashes.' Danny murmured, 'What's it mean?'

'It's a code,' Moody hissed, 'In case someone tries to interfere – pretend they're someone they're not.'

'Why would they—?'

'The world is dangerous, Fenton. You'd best to be on your toes. Keep those words locked tight in your head. If you're ever in doubt, ask about how Fawkes is going. That's your answer.'

'Fawkes?'

'My phoenix,' Dumbledore supplied helpfully, 'The code is wordplay. I believe Miss Nymphadora Tonks came up with that particular expression. A way to secure the safety of the Order.'

Danny was beginning to feel overwhelmed, 'What's the Order?'

'Not so loud!' snapped Moody, eyeing off a pair of nearby power-walkers who blanched and sprinted out of sight, 'We can't talk here, it's too exposed!'

Dumbledore placed a reassuring hand on Danny's shoulder, 'It's nothing to concern yourself about right now, Danny. Just remember that Hogwarts is a safe place – whenever you are in need, help will always be given to you there. Now, I think it is about time that I return you to your classes.'

Danny shrugged checking his watch, 'I dunno, Arithmancy still has another ten minutes to go.'

He was promptly ignored. Dumbledore gripped Danny's forearm once again. Before they could leave, however, Moody hissed out, 'Don't forget the code! Remember the code!'

They disappeared with a pop.

ΔOl

I took a lot of influence of how the magical society works in America from the first Fantastic Beast film (haven't seen the second yet). The relationship between no-maj and wizards seems real messy, which I definitely wanted to imply – especially since it's been told that no-maj could only legally interact with wizards after the end of the WW2. That's a timeline of less than fifty years – barely two generations. I reckon there would still be a lot of segregation and bias lurking under the covers, so that was a fun, more gritty reality to explore.

Please leave a review – feedback is welcome as long as it is constructive.


	4. Casper's Arrival

Chapter 4: Casper's Arrival

ΔOl

The Great Hall was brimming with light and sound. Juniors and seniors fluttered excitedly around the room, gossiping and squealing as the clock in the foyer ticked over to a quarter past two. Outside the doors stood flocks of the lower grade Caspers, daring glances and whispering excitedly through the glass panels on the grand entrance before Professor Trunchbull's barking threats of detention sent them scattering.

Danny and Sam sat off to the far side of the room at one of the bronze tables. Sam was making an obvious effort to quell her excitement, eyes glittering as they travelled around the room, while Danny's stayed firmly shut, bruised purple from a lack of sleep. Anxiousness had kept him awake for most of the night, along with an unwelcome visit from Klemper, a rather socially repugnant Animus.

He barely flinched as another crack echoed through the Great Hall like a whip, a bright light coating the room, making the Caspers yelp in alarm before it flickered and died. One of the fourteen MACUSA officials cursed furiously, stationed by the ancient oak bench, before raising his wand again with the others and hissed out another round of complicated spells that Danny couldn't even begin to understand.

'You don't have to do this, you know,' Sam said in a low voice as the screaming died down.

Danny lifted his head sluggishly, giving it a soft shake, 'I don't have a choice. It'll look even more suspicious if I'm the only Casper not attending the tournament. Besides, Dumbledore said that if I don't the British Ministry might try and force me to help them.'

'But they can't do that! You have rights!' Sam spat, furious.

'I'm not human, remember? At least not to them. The Ministry can do whatever they want as long as I'm not considered an actual wizard – and there's no way I'm telling them my secret. Besides,' he said much more jovially, pulling a packet of Filibuster Fireworks out of his pocket with a grin, 'Might as well have some fun while we're there.'

Sam looked like she wanted to argue when another bright flash and the sound of shrieking made them look over at the MACUSA officials – Danny quickly tucked the fireworks into his back pocket.

A large gateway floated nearly a foot off the ground, the edges flickering like flames starving for air. The inside of the portal looked barren and cold, nothing but green that seemed to go on forever. Many of the students shivered at the sight. Danny was rather unimpressed. After all, his parents had successfully opened a portal in their basement three years ago without even resorting to magic.

'All right now, students. Everyone in place, seventh grade first, followed by sixth!' Headmistress Ishiyama called, motioning to Danny and his classmates. Professor Lancer, a bald and paunchy man dressed in pale blue robes, stepped in front of the gateway, wincing as the edges snapped at his cloak ends, making a nearby sixth grader squeal and scarper out of reach.

Danny, despite his unwillingness to leave Amity Park, ended up at the front of the line. The rest of his classmates stood further away, looking more than slightly hesitant. Lancer stared down at Danny with a sharp eye before announcing to the group, 'I want you all to stay in an orderly fashion – no wandering off and no foolish pranks. Is that clear?' He said the last part directly to Danny who rolled his eyes, tucking the Filibusters deeper into his pocket.

'Yes,' the group droned.

'Good, is everyone ready? Follow me, quickly now. We're already late as it is.'

Lancer hitched up his robes and, with only a flicker of hesitancy, strode through; the portal seemed to shift with the faintest of ripples, the green light encasing him as he stepped further until he became nothing but a watery shadow. A sharp poke in the back urged Danny to follow.

The air was cooler in the portal, he found himself standing next to Professor Lancer on a narrow craggy plane with soil so dark that it appeared purple. He glanced up at the sickly green sky that swirled and swayed in different hues. No matter how many times he had visited the zone, there was always something so eerily fantastical about it.

'Come along, Fenton. We may as well get started,' Lancer barked, pulling out his wand, 'Point me.'

The wand swivelled in Lancer's palm before settling west and the man strode forward, Danny following behind. Soon after he heard Sam's metal-capped boots hit the dirt. Danny gave her a grin, which she replied to with a roll of her eyes, jabbing a thumb at their classmates who were cautiously stepping through the portal, whimpering as they twisted and turned as if something was going to jump out at them from the green.

He shrugged, turning to catch up to Lancer who was beginning to shake quite noticeably the deeper they went. The hand holding his wand was quivering in trepidation and he jumped at every hollow howl that echoed through the abyss. After fifteen minutes of walking in near silence (excusing Dash Baxter's pathetic snivelling near the back), the Caspers reached the end of the path. Another gateway hovered in front of them, glowing so brightly it felt like staring into the sun.

Lancer lowered his wand, looking peaky, 'Now, I expect everyone to act accordingly. We are guests at Hogwarts and are being welcomed into a centuries-old tradition. Be smart, stay sharp, and by the Prestidigitation of Practical Potioneering Propriety, behave.'

Flicking his robes, he hurried his way through, the rest of the school rushing for the portal to get out of the strange cold. Danny followed his classmates at a much slower pace, Sirius Black and the responsibility that came with his capture etching his way into his thoughts. Taking a deep breath, he stepped through.

The first thing he noticed was that the sky was much clearer than home; the night was filled with thousands of stars, glistening against the stone of a majestic castle carved into the rugged Scottish landscape. A lake sat off to the side where an impressive ship lay docked. A dark forest sat further behind, the wind carrying come-hithers to his ears.

By the stairs leading up into the castle stood the students of Hogwarts, dressed in black robes with insignias stitched on their lapels and matching ties, looking dazed and cold as the final Caspers barged their way through after Danny. As the last student stepped out, the gateway flared brightly once more and disappeared with a pop.

Blinking the stars out of his eyes, he watched as Dumbledore made his way over to them. Lancer, who had shoved his way past Fernhilda Saunders, a relatively popular sixth grader, strode forward to meet him.

'Ah, you must be Professor Lancer, Headmistress Ishiyama's replacement. How excellent that we can finally meet.' Dumbledore offered his hand.

Lancer reached forward to grasp it firmly, 'Quite, Professor Dumbledore. The Headmistress apologises for her absence, but she couldn't justify leaving the school unattended for such a long period of time.' He proffered a hand behind him at Danny and his classmates and announced, 'May I introduce Casper Magical Seminary's Tetrawizard contestants.'

Danny saw Dumbledore's mouth tilt into a grin when their eyes met, before he smiled broadly at the rest of the group, 'Welcome, children, to Hogwarts. All of us here hope you enjoy your stay at our fine institution. Now I might suggest that we head inside, as the weather is decidedly nippy.'

'Finally!' one of the Hogwarts students moaned.

Danny darted forward with the rest of the Caspers, eager to get inside and discover the castle. They were quickly swept through the entrance into the Great Hall. Students had already settled themselves at four long tables, laughing and talking excitedly. The professors and their guests were seated at the front of the room, candles enchanted to float about their heads.

He supposed by the rapid-fire French that the shivering Beauxbatons were already seated at a table with Hogwarts students accented in blue, while Durmstrang, wrapped in their thick fur cloaks, sat at one donned in green. The Caspers had chosen the table with red. Sneaking a glance at a seated first grader's lapel he read the title _Gryffindor_.

A hand tugged at the sleeve of his shirt. Sam gestured to where Paulina and her friends had transfigured the silverware into hand mirrors to check their hair. 'Come on. Let's sit further up.'

She dragged him deeper into the room where a few vacant spots were open. Relieved, the pair sank onto the long benches that accompanied the tables, Danny loosening his tie with a grin as a few nearby Gryffindors stared peculiarly at them.

'I hope we get something to eat, I'm starving.'

'Danny! We just had lunch before when we left!' Sam rolled her eyes at him, 'I just want to know what their curriculum is. I heard they do Divination here!'

'I thought you already studied that?'

Sam rolled her eyes, 'Xylomancy hardly counts as foresight. It's like flipping a galleon and hoping for the best. Real Divination allows you to truly see the future.'

Danny wrinkled his nose, Divination sounded like the exact opposite of what he wanted to learn. He had had enough of the future after meeting Clockwork at the end of his fourth year – the shade of an ancient and powerful wizard renowned for dealing with time – and in result meeting himself.

'It'll be nice though, not being stuck with just the Caspers in class.'

Danny frowned, 'Just the Caspers?'

Sam scoffed, 'Were you even listening at the tournament assembly? We're combining classes with Hogwarts. You didn't really expect Lancer to be teaching both the sixth and seventh graders by himself, did you?'

'You mean I won't have to be stuck with Kwan as a Potions partner anymore?' Danny grinned, pumping his fist, 'Yes!'

She matched him with a smirk, 'Probably not. And who knows, maybe now we'll actually have some classes together.'

'I hope so,' Danny murmured, admiring the way her eyes glowed in the candlelight. Sam's purple smirk curved into a soft smile.

They jumped as someone dropped themselves into the seat opposite. Two boys dressed in Gryffindor robes with flaming red hair smirked at the two of them, twin copies of the other. Another boy followed suit at a more languid pace with short dreadlocks, looking like he was going to keel over at any point with laughter.

'Er, hello?' Danny said, pulling himself away from Sam.

'Hello,' the twins echoed. The other boy giggled delightedly.

'Can we help you?' Sam sniffed, looking less than impressed by the intrusion.

'Oh, where are our manners, George?' The boy on the left gasped.

The boy on the right nodded solemnly, 'Our mother would be so disappointed, Fred. We're practically barbarians.'

Two hands were shoved under Danny's nose, 'The name's Fred and George. And this is Lee; our good friend, fellow Gryffindor and avid supporter of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.'

'Er, hey. I'm Danny and this is Sam.' he grasped both their hands while Sam gave them a cool stare. 'What are Weasley's Wizard Wheezes?'

The twins grinned widely. George proudly announced, 'I'm glad you asked, friend. Why it is the name of our little business venture—'

'—magical joke products and whatnot. They've been rather popular so far, we've just started testing them on the first and second years—'

'—however, we've been thinking that we may need to broaden our demographics. It's difficult to get any sort of real reactions out of someone you've paid a few sickles for a trial.' One of the twins handed Danny an order flyer listing an assortment of joke products from fake wands to sickness-inducing candies.

'Okay,' Danny said slowly, eyes flicking between the three of them, 'What's that got to do with us?'

'Well,' George leaned forward conspiratorially, 'We couldn't help but notice that you had something rather peculiar sticking out of your back pocket.'

Danny blanched, yanking the Filibuster fireworks out of his trousers and stuffing them down the front of his sweater, glancing around in case Lancer or any of the other teachers caught him.

The trio laughed and Lee shook his head, 'Don't worry, no one else saw.'

Fred tapped the side of his nose, 'It'll be our secret.'

Sam gave an impatient huff, 'What do you want?' she barked.

'Fresh meat,' George stated, 'It's all good to hire a few firsties, but we'd really like the element of surprise—'

Fred gestured to a round-faced fourth grader sitting some little ways away, 'And it's getting a little boring tricking Neville all the time. Mentioning that, I wouldn't recommend eating any cream puffs while you're here.'

'I still don't understand what that has to do with me,' Danny frowned.

'Well, it's obvious you aren't friends with the prat and his cronies up there.' He turned to see Fred, George and Lee staring dispassionately at Dash Baxter who was thwacking Nathan Gert, an unpopular bespectacled boy, rather vigorously on the head with his wand like a beater's bat.

'Well you're not wrong,' Sam shrugged.

Something seemed to click in Danny's brain as Dash turned to a whimpering Mikey next.

'Fresh meat, huh?' he smirked, 'I could organise something.'

Sam whirled around on him, her mind not far behind, 'Danny, no!' she snarled, before whispering so low only he could catch it, 'You don't have time to mess around! What about Black?'

Danny just gave her an easy grin, 'Relax, Sam. It'll be fine. Dash has had this coming a long time.'

Fred, George and Lee crowed, slapping Danny on the back jovially.

The chattering died down as the staff entered the hall. Danny didn't recognise anyone besides Dumbledore except Mad-Eye Moody, who was clomping his way down past the tables glaring at anyone who caught his magical eye. Trailing behind Dumbledore was Lancer, who looked a fair deal calmer since he had stepped out of the portal and was proudly making his way to his designated seat.

A hook-nosed man was following him dressed in thick furs that suited the Durmstrangs, curling his goatee distractedly. Following him was the largest woman Danny had ever seen, so tall that he thought if he stood next to her he'd barely graze her collarbone. She was dressed in dark, expensive looking silks and at her arrival the Beauxbatons jumped to their feet. Danny, along with the rest of the school gave a short laugh at their eager expressions, but they didn't appear embarrassed, only seating themselves after their headmistress had taken her place to Dumbledore's left.

Dumbledore, however, remained standing, waving his arms as the room fell to silence, 'Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and – most importantly – guests,' he started, beaming at the rather cramped Great Hall, 'I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable.'

'Yeah, right,' Danny muttered under his breath, earning an elbow in his side from Sam.

'The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast,' Dumbledore continued, 'I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!' He sat down and the plates in from of Danny seemed to fill with so much food and drink that he swore the table creaked under the weight. There was a great variety of dishes that Danny didn't even recognise, obviously specialty cuisines from Bulgaria and France.

He poked a dark, speckled galleon-sized lump of something that looked to have been burnt with his fork, 'What is this?' he asked, screwing up his nose.

'Huh? Oh, that's black pudding.' Lee said cheerily, dolloping a spoonful of mashed potatoes onto his plate.

'Where's the custard?'

Fred snorted as if he had said something particularly funny.

'What?' Danny demanded.

'It's not a desert, mate. It's a blood sausage.'

'I think I'll pass.' Danny told Sam who gave him a smarmy look, nibbling on a slice of ratatouille.

ΔOl

Leave a review if you have the chance. It lets me know whether people are enjoying the story and that it is worthwhile writing and completing.


	5. Sir Cadogan's Keep

ΔOl

The evening seemed to fly by in a flurry of good conversation and food – even Sam softened slightly to Fred, George and Lee's antics by the time dessert arrived. When all the golden plates had been wiped clean, Dumbledore rose to his feet a second time. The hall immediately fell into silence, watching with excited eyes as the Headmaster raise his hands to attention, casting the room into a buzzing silence. Fred and George were leaning so far forward in their seats that their chins were nearly pressed against the table.

'The moment has come,' Dumbledore smiled broadly at the upturned faces, 'The Tetrawizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket—'

'The what?' Danny muttered. Sam knocked him in his side again with a hushing noise.

'—just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation,' Danny clapped politely with the rest of the hall as a thin moustachioed man with severely parted hair made the smallest inclination of his head, neck stiff and thin-lipped. 'And Mr Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports.'

Danny was ready to offer another round of polite clapping when the room burst into a much more emphatic cheering. Bagman stood from his seat, a round boyish face surrounded by a mop of curly blond hair that looked strange on someone of his age and position. He gave a jovial wave with a bright grin, and Crouch seemed to frown deeper at the other man's antics.

'Mr. Bagman and Mr Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Tetrawizard Tournament,' Dumbledore continued, 'And they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime and Professor Lancer on the panel that will judge the champion's efforts.'

At the mention of 'champions,' the students seemed to sit up even straighter. Perhaps Dumbledore had noticed their stillness as he smiled and said, 'The casket if you please, Mr Filch.'

A man dressed in ugly drab robes of varying shades of brown and grey hobbled from the far corner of the hall, carting an ancient wooden chest encrusted with jewels that seemed to sing of the years of time. A murmur of excitement rose from the students, one young boy stood on his chair to see, but he was so tiny his head was barely any higher than anyone else's.

'The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr Bagman and Mr Crouch,' Dumbledore spoke as Filch carefully placed the chest on the table before him, 'And they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways… their magical prowess – their daring – their powers of deduction – and, of course, their ability to cope with danger.'

Fred, George and Lee were nearly hyperventilating with excitement at this point, grinning at each other whenever they caught the other's eye.

'As you know, traditionally three champions compete in the tournament. One from each of the participating schools. With the introduction of our newest company, the tournament will be one champion more difficult. Each champion will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the one with the highest total after three tasks will win the Tetrawizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector; the Goblet of Fire.'

Dumbledore drew his wand from his robes and tapped three times upon the top of the chest. The lid creaked slowly open. Reaching inside, Dumbledore pulled out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup. It would have been entirely unremarkable had it not been full to the brim with dancing blue-white flames. Dumbledore closed the casket and placed the goblet carefully on top of it, its flames so bright that it appeared like Dumbledore was cradling the sun in his hands.

'Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet,' Dumbledore instructed, 'Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the four it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete.

'To ensure that no underage student yields temptation,' Dumbledore continued, his voice catching a stern edge, 'I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line.'

'What?' Fred and George spat. Danny didn't share their outrage, already having celebrated his seventeenth birthday back in January.

'Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all.'

The three Gryffindors stood with barely a glance at Danny or Sam, too caught up in themselves as they strode out of the hall, 'An Age Line! Well, that can be fooled by an aging potion, shouldn't it?' one of them cackled, 'And once your name's in that goblet, you're laughing – it can't tell whether you're seventeen or not…'

'Idiots,' Sam muttered from beside Danny as she rose from her seat, 'As if something as simple as an aging potion would trick the goblet. Surely they would have thought of that in preparations.'

'Aw, come on. Don't crack their cauldron,' Danny said in a lower voice watching the three boys meet up with some of the younger years, one that looked particularly like the twins with gangly limbs and a long, freckled nose, 'Who knows, it might actually work.'

'Fenton, Manson!' barked out Professor Lancer from the head of the Gryffindor table. The other Caspers were already milling around the near-empty room, looking bored. Danny and Sam made their way over, 'Everyone here? Good. Now, you are to follow me to your new dormitories. The Headmaster has been kind enough to give us boarding in some of the lesser-used classrooms. Come on.'

The students trailed behind Professor Lancer as he made his way out of the Great Hall and into the entrance. There was a narrow corridor just off to the side of the main stairs. It was rather unimpressive in comparison to the rest of the castle; the walls were barren and plain except for a large painting of a bowl of fruit.

Lancer halted at the end of the corridor in front of an unassuming wooden door, 'Gentlemen, your rooms should be through to the left, ladies on the right. Your trunks have already arrived and should be situated in front of your allocated beds. I hope you are capable of finding your belongings without needing my assistance?'

Danny could practically hear Sam rolling her eyes.

'Now, it is important that you remember the password; Clabbert.'

There was a clicking sound and the door swung open on its own accord. Inside Danny glimpsed a cozy-looking common room with plush chairs and a crackling fireplace. The others let off exhausted squeals as they barged their way into the room. Danny went to follow them when Lancer placed a hand on his shoulder.

'Not so fast, Mr Fenton.'

'What?' Danny asked. He hadn't done anything wrong – he was certain that Lancer hadn't caught sight of the fireworks.

Lancer didn't have a look of suspicion, instead, his mouth was turned down in a frown, 'I have been notified that there is not enough room available for you in the boys' dormitories.'

'Are you _serious?_ ' Danny hissed, 'Where am I supposed to stay then? There's no way I'm bunking on the couch for a whole year.'

'Don't worry, Fenton. The Headmaster has informed me that they have been able to accommodate you with alternate lodgings. Come with me.'

Lancer led him back out of the corridor and into the entrance hall, up the impressive staircase which led them up over four flights. The walls were high, encased in grey stone and lined with portraits that stared curiously at them, whispering to each other. One painting of a town square with a witch strapped to a pyre had her executioner pause distractedly as they passed by, causing the torch he was holding to catch his sleeve, forcing him to fling himself into a water trough.

More twisting and curving staircases sent them deeper into the castle, and Danny was surprised to find that the staircases moved; he had barely stepped off onto the fifth floor when the set decided to pivot, curving out of sight.

Annoyed, Danny followed behind Lancer as they steadily made their way up a further two flights of stairs. They were both panting by the time they reached the arched opening to an intimidating spiral staircase that looked to go on forever.

'Up there?' Danny gasped for air, feeling queasy at the idea that he had to climb even further, 'The only free room they have in the entire castle is in a tower?'

'I suppose it has a great view,' Lancer offered unhelpfully, mopping sweat off his forehead with his tie, 'Your trunk should have already arrived. I'll see you in the Great Hall for breakfast.'

'It'll be lunch by the time I make it all the way down.'

'Goodnight, Fenton.' With a flick of his robes, Lancer wheezed his way back down to the ground floor.

'Great,' Danny huffed to himself, heaving his way onto the first step. It took ten minutes for Danny to reach the top and he immediately sunk down onto the stone tiles.

'What rapscallion has gambled to enter these lands! Dare you try to challenge Sir Cadogan?' a voice barked out.

There was a large portrait in place of a door on the opposite end of the landing. Dressed in a suit of armour sat a man on a rather fat pony, hand resting on the scabbard of a sword.

'What?' Danny said, struggling to catch his breath.

Sir Cadogan, he assumed, pulled out his sword and waved it about, 'Ah, a challenger, I see. Well, you'll not be getting past me I tell you! Back, you rogue! I'll have you not set one foot in this room!'

'But it's my room!' Danny argued.

'Oh, is it?' Sir Cadogan lowered his sword, 'Alright then, young mage, speak the password and you may enter.'

Of course there was a password. He rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, pinching the bridge of his nose, 'Look, Lancer didn't give me a password, so can I just get into my room already? It's late and I'm tired—'

The knight gave a jaunty laugh, 'You think me a fool? Trying your trickery to sway my good heart? Have at you!' Sir Cadogan leapt off his pony in a valiant show, only for his foot to catch on a stirrup, sending him tumbling to the ground, his helmet clanking closed across his face.

'I don't have time for this.' Willing himself intangible, Danny slid right through the portrait and into a quaint circular room, his feet barely skimming the ground as he became solid again.

The room was round with a single window featuring a reading nook carved from stone, a set of rich blue velvet curtains framed it to match the four-post bed shoved against the far wall where his trunk sat neatly at the end. Opposite the bed was a grand fireplace which crackled welcomingly. Two tufted armchairs sat in front of it, one which was already occupied.

Dumbledore sat with a faint smile on his lips, his fingers clasped beneath his chin patiently.

'Er, hello.' Danny said awkwardly, letting his feet hit the ground with a soft _thump_.

'Good evening, Danny. I hope the evening has treated you well?' Dumbledore waved a hand to the seat opposite him.

Danny took the invitation before callously saying, 'As good as being kicked out of your own common room, I guess.'

'Ah,' Dumbledore gave a soft shake of his head, 'That would be my fault, I'm afraid.'

'Why would you do that?' Danny frowned, 'I don't think separating me from the rest of my class is helping me stay, y'know, low-key.'

'No, I suppose it isn't very. However,' Dumbledore's eyes twinkled mischievously, 'I thought that it may be easier to have such discussions as this one without the risk of being overheard.'

Danny slumped further into his seat, kicking his legs out in front of him. 'So, what do you want to talk about?'

'I'd like to confer further about your purpose here. There has been much deliberation about how to approach the capture of Sirius Black – his original sentence was to live out the rest of his life in Azkaban. He spent twelve years locked away before he was able to escape.'

'How'd he do it?' Danny asked curiously, 'I thought Azkaban was supposed to be impenetrable.'

'It is unknown by the common man how he escaped, only that he has been able to evade the law ever since.'

Danny stared at him sceptically. 'But you're not some common dude, are you, Dumbledore?'

'No, I suppose I am not.' The Headmaster chuckled. 'Following his escape, his sentence was placed under review and upon capture has now been ordered to receive a dementor's kiss.'

A trill of cold swept down Danny's spine. 'That's… that's just _horrible_.'

He has only met a Dementor once in his life, following the successful capture of a rather crazed puritan one year before. It had been a ritualistic turnover to the MACUSA before the Dementor arrived, swooping down in billowing rags of black, sucking away even the slimmest glimmers of joy. Danny had felt like his insides had been scooped out with a rusted, jagged spoon.

The Aurors that had accompanied it hadn't stopped it from kneeling over the wizard, who had cried and begged for mercy and Danny had watched in horror as the Dementor greedily grasped the man's chin with a rotting grey hand, before lowering its hood and—

Just the memory of the creature sent the hairs on the back of Danny's neck standing on end. Nobody deserved that sort of life.

Dumbledore nodded, 'I agree. I believe that this harsh turn of punishment has little to do with his actual crimes and more to hide the Ministry's embarrassment over their ill attempts to recapture him. That is why I suggest, upon your own successful capture of Black, that you do not contact the Aurors quite so immediately.'

Danny raised a suspicious brow. 'No one acts sympathetic towards the guy who blows people up.'

'Astute as ever I see, albeit a little crass.' The Headmaster gave him a thin-lipped smile. 'I cannot say for sure if he is innocent or otherwise. I have my suspicions following the events of last year with his godson, but I have no clear evidence at this time.'

'Who's his godson?'

'That would be Harry, my dear boy. Harry Potter.'

Danny gave a clueless shrug and the Dumbledore looked for the first time surprised. 'No-maj,' he offered.

The old man had a peculiar expression as he lifted himself out of the armchair, 'No matter. Another story for another time then. I will be coming to collect you this Thursday evening for your probationary meeting with Head Auror Scrimgeour. It is important that we make a good impression no matter what knowledge we have gathered; as of this moment in time, Sirius Black is still considered by the Ministry 'Undesirable Number One'.'

He had nearly closed the door behind him when he called out, 'Oh, and you might find it useful to know your password; it is _The Grim_. Goodnight.'

ΔOl

The next chapter for this story probably won't be out until the new year, so please leave your feedback and what you hope to see from this story as it continues. Happy new year!


	6. Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrewts

Chapter 6: Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrewts

ΔOl

'Come on, Danny!' Sam called out as she swept past him a second time, 'How are you going to catch anyone if you can't even keep up?'

Danny heaved a gasping breath, sweat trickling uncomfortably down the nape of his neck as he made a slow, unsteady stomp around the Black Lake. Sam barely looked puffed.

'I don't need to run laps,' Danny wheezed out after her, 'Not when I can just use my powers—'

But Sam had already dashed out of earshot, pounding past the embankment where a giant squid lazed about in the shallows up toward the Quidditch pitch.

Slowing to a painful stop, he watched her disappear between the stands before flinging himself down onto the lake's slope, his lungs burning with each deep breath he took. The grounds were thankfully empty, the sun had barely risen and not even the teachers were awake yet. Across the field the giant carriage that housed the Beauxbaton's remained unmoving, their giant winged horses grazing nearby. On the lake, the Durmstrang ship remained anchored by the water's edge, the docking plank withdrawn as water lapped noiselessly against the hull, glistening like diamonds in the grey morning light. A cabin with a softly smoking chimney sat nestled in a patch of giant pumpkins that were nearly as tall as a Beauxbaton stallion.

Danny sunk onto the grassy embankment, letting his eyes fall shut as his breath evened out and he felt himself relax for the first time since arriving at Hogwarts. The soft wind whistled in his ears, singing softly to him, before curling away deep into the Forbidden Forest. It was a beautiful place, wedged into the craggy mountainous range that not even the most daring no-maj would attempt to scour. The sun was rising to beat softly against his chilled face, banishing the shadows that the forest cast out.

'Fang? Where yeh goin'?' Boomed a voice from across the yard.

There was a thunderous bark in reply, followed by the heavy padding of paws — Danny's eyes snapped open. A large, droopy-looking bloodhound was sprinting its way across the embankment, wagging his tail furiously at the sight of Danny.

'Whoa now! Hold on, boy!' Fang ignored him, giving another loud bark through slobbering jowls before he pounced.

'Oof!' Danny groaned at the feeling of cold mud seeping into his back, and a large wet tongue dragged itself across his face. 'Oh, gross.'

'Gerroff 'im, Fang! Come on now. Off, yeh great slobberin' mongrel!'

Danny tried to shove Fang's head away, earning himself a handful of saliva which he wiped on his sodden robes, nose scrunched in disgust. Fang gave a pitiful whine as he was dragged away, replaced with a ginormous hand. He looked up to discover the largest man he had ever seen — so large that it took him a moment to realise that he wasn't staring up at the face of an overtly friendly giant. A pair of keen black eyes stared down at him behind an impressive bushy beard.

'Yeh alrigh'? Don't look much pleasant down there.'

'Yeah,' Danny said dazed, taking the hand. His arm was nearly wrenched out of its socket as he became suddenly upright. 'I am. Who are you?'

'Name's Hagrid. Rubeus Hagrid. Professor for Care of Magical Creatures 'ere at Hogwarts. I'm guessin' yeh must be one of the Caspers, eh?' the ginormous man guessed. Fang was sitting by his side panting up at Danny, slobber dripping from his jowls contently. Danny swiped at his cheek.

'Er, yeah. How'd you guess?' He grumbled.

'Was either that or a Beauxbaton. Ye don' look like much of a Durmstrang, with all their moodiness and the likes. Don' trust 'em, not one bit. No matter how much Dumbledore says they're alright…' Hagrid sent a sharp glare at the ship docked on the lake.

Danny coughed, making Hagrid jolt as if he'd forgotten he was there, 'An' who might you be?'

'Er, I'm Danny. Danny Fenton.'

Hagrid grinned down at him, 'Nice t' meet yeh, Danny. How're ye likin' Hogwarts?'

'It's wet.' He muttered, looking down at Fang who was now leaning heavily against his leg, tendrils of drool trailing down his thigh.

Hagrid shoved Fang out of the way, 'Sorry 'bout that. He's usually not so friendly with strangers. Right coward most o' the time.'

'It's alright. I don't mind animals.'

Hagrid's eyes lit up, 'A creature-lover, eh? Well, if yer interested I might 'ave a right treat fer yeh.' He tottered off toward the cabin he had spied earlier at a pace that forced Danny to have to jog after him, Fang faithfully following behind. 'Been workin' on these beauties since the start o' term with m' fourth years. They love 'em.'

Danny peered past the giant pumpkins to find a waist-high fence sheltered in the shadow of the cabin. There was a peculiar sound of clacking as he edged closer. Hagrid was beaming, waving a hand to urge him forward. A sense of foreboding crept its way down his spine but Danny ignored the urge to run, choosing to peer over the edge of the fence.

Inside were some of the most grotesque creatures he had ever seen. Large scorpion-like beasts of varying shades of gun-metal grey armour were slithering around the ground, hissing and clacking angrily with a multitude of legs jutting out in obscure angles. Some of them had large stingers on their back nearly the length of his forearm. The whole area smelled of rotting fish.

'Aren't they beautiful?' Hagrid said.

It took Danny a moment to realise that the man was completely serious before he half-heartedly nodded, focusing on breathing as little as possible. 'What are they?'

'Er, I don't really know yet. I've just been callin' 'em Blast-Ended Skrewts.'

'Blast-Ended Skrewts? Why do you call them—'

A sudden jet of flame burst out the end of one of the closer Skrewts, sending it catapulting over ten feet.

Danny felt suddenly very sorry for Hagrid's students.

'Yeh see,' Hagrid pointed at a particularly evil-looking Skrewt, 'the females 'ave got those suckers on their bellies, and the males 'ave them stingers. Not really sure why yet; suppose it might be a way to defend themselves – try an' keep any nasties away.'

Danny doubted that the Blast-Ended Skrewts had any natural predators to defend themselves against.

'They're really rather misunderstood creatures. I've had some of my students takin' care of them. Tryin' t' learn more about them— hang on!' Hagrid cut himself off, staring into the enclosure, 'How many do yeh count?'

'I dunno, a dozen? Why?'

'I think one's missin'.' Hagrid clapped him on the shoulder with a dinner plate hand, making Danny's knees buckle. 'Come on then, it couldn't 'ave gone far.'

'What?' Danny blanched, 'You want to catch it? What if it explodes?'

Hagrid gave a bark of laughter as if Danny had told a particularly funny joke, 'Don' worry; they're practically harmless.'

ΔOl

'What happened to you?' George Weasley bellowed out. A brilliant white beard was swaying about his waist, growing at a rather alarming rate; but he didn't seem to care, shoving his moustache out of the way to give a mischievous grin. Fred had stormed in after, looking a lot more sullen at the appearance of his own beard.

Danny hissed as Madame Pomfrey slathered on another thick layer of foul-smelling ointment on his arm, 'Ran into one of Professor Hagrid's pets.'

Madame Pomfrey tutted from where she was binding up the last of Danny's arm before turning to the burn marks scattered across his chest, 'Completely unprofessional,' she muttered under her breath, 'Letting children near those beasts. We've already had six students come in for healing – six! I've already had to replenish my stocks with burn salve. He's lucky it wasn't one of the younger students wandering about.'

George gave a laugh, 'You met Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrewts? I heard they were bad, but you look like you've gone toe-to-toe with a fire crab!'

'Yeah, whatever. Laugh it up. At least I don't look like my great-uncle Elmer,' Danny gestured towards their beards.

Fred rolled his eyes, slumping down in the seat next to Danny's cot, 'Pretty sure Dumbledore's just trying to impress his image onto us, sneaky git.'

'Don't call Dumbledore that when it was you trying to fool the age-line.' Called out a girl as she slipped into the Hospital Wing. Bright red hair framed her freckled face and Danny could easily see the family resemblance as she strode forward to stand at the end of his bed, staring Fred and George down with an irritated look, 'I warned you that ageing-potion wouldn't work.'

'An ageing potion, is it?' Madame Pomfrey had finished wrapping Danny's chest and pushed him gently to recline back onto the pillows before turning a stern look on the twins, 'Wait here while I collect the right potions. And don't touch anything.'

Fred and George both rolled their eyes as Madame Pomfrey disappeared into her office. 'Hey, Ginny,' the twins muttered half-heartedly.

'An age-line? You were serious about entering the tournament?' Danny asked George, who stole the other seat by his bed.

'Course!' George said proudly, 'Who wouldn't want to enter it? A thousand galleons and eternal glory? It'd be wicked.'

Fred looked confused, 'Hold on, you're not entering the tournament?'

'Oh, no. I mean… y'know. Competitions aren't really my thing. And my parents they're…'

He stuttered to a halt, not sure how the Weasley's would react to finding out that he didn't exactly have pure magical blood. He didn't want to start the school year like he had at Casper, but there wasn't any real way of avoiding it.

'They're what?' Fred asked.

'Er, they're inventors,' he bit out hesitantly, 'no-maj inventors… so, like, they wouldn't be able to watch – and they love magic, so they'd be really upset…'

'No-maj? What's that?' Ginny frowned.

'Oh, um… you guys call them muggles.'

The twins' moustaches had grown to cover their mouth, but Danny swore they grinned, 'Your parents are inventors? Muggle inventors?'

'Um, yeah?'

'That's wicked.' Fred and George burst out, 'Wait 'til we tell our dad! He'd love 'em!'

Danny felt a bit flustered. He'd never had this sort of reaction about his family from anyone. Not even Sam had been this excited to learn what his parents did.

Ginny answered Danny's silent question, 'Dad works in the Department of Misuse of Muggle Artefacts. He loves muggles. Never stops talking about them—'

There was a loud bang as the doors flew open and Sam forced herself into the room. Her eyes were wide as she scanned the room before landing on Danny in all his bandaged glory.

'Danny!' she cried, nearly shoving Fred from his seat as she dashed to his side, 'What happened?'

'Oh hey, Sam. Don't worry, it's not as bad as it looks.'

'You haven't got any eyebrows, mate.' Fred chortled.

Sam practically ignored him, eyes still concerned, 'When I heard you were hurt, I thought… I thought it was…'

The name floated between the two of them, unspoken. Sirius Black.

Danny hesitated. He hadn't shared his discussion with Dumbledore from last night. Instead, he gave a barking laugh, 'Don't worry, Sam. It's going to take more than an undercooked lobster to take me down.'

Sam frowned at him as Madame Pomfrey bustled her way back into the room, barely sparing her or Ginny a glance as she shoved a flask into both Fred and George's hands, 'Take it. The sooner you drink this the easier it will be to return you to your normal state.'

Fred and George gave matching grins as they clinked their potions, 'Bottoms up.'

With a large swig, the two downed the potion and Danny watched perturbed as large clumps of white hair started shedding from their chins. In less than a minute George was completely clean-shaven. Fred looked unimpressed with his results; fresh stubble had already sprouted from his face at an alarming rate.

'It appears I may have to keep you here a little longer, Mr Weasley.' Madame Pomfrey gave a sigh before turning her attention to Danny, checking his bandages, 'Hopefully, I can have you both healed up before breakfast is finished.' She gestured to George, Ginny and Sam, 'Mr Weasley, Miss Weasley, and… er… company, I suggest you make your way down to the Great Hall.'

'What? I'm not leaving here without Danny!' Sam cried.

'Then you can wait outside in the corridor. I won't be having you here distracting the other patients.'

Ginny scoffed, 'There's no one else here though.'

'Out!'

'You can't keep him here! This is oppression!' Sam yelled, stomping her heavy combat boots as Madam Pomfrey ushered her towards the door, followed by a confused George and Ginny, 'Danny has the right to choose whether he wants to stay! This is nothing more than a come-down of The Man!'

'The Man? What man?' Ginny asked.

Danny had the sneaking suspicion that Sam wasn't talking about Madam Pomfrey's attempts at healing his burns, rather another one of her tirades against the Ministry's ill-fated acquisition of Phantom.

'Sam, knock it off.' He hissed in warning.

She threw him a withering look but firmly kept her mouth shut. Without a second glance, she turned on her heel, waltzing through the doorway. Danny watched Ginny and George share a look before following. With a huff, Madam Pomfrey primly clicked the door shut.

'Now, I hope that's the last disturbance I get today. Ideally, Mr Weasley, your public humiliation was a keen enough incentive so that no other underaged students attempt to cross the age-line. And Mr Fenton, hopefully you will be an excellent example of the idiocies of approaching an unknown magical creature.'

'Glad we could help.' Danny muttered.

Madam Pomfrey ignored him, pulling a slip of paper from her pocket along with a mirror and a thick paste, which she slathered across his face, 'Now, leave this on for a few minutes. Once your eyebrows have returned you are free to go. Make sure to read this note, too. It just arrived for you. Mr Weasley, if you would follow me, we shall see what we can do about that beard of yours.'

Fred slunk after Madam Pomfrey over to the far side of the Wing, tripping over his beard more than once. Danny held up the mirror, feeling a tingling sensation as the salve quickly melted away to reveal short stubbly hairs in their place that grew at a rapid rate. In less than a minute, his eyebrows had returned to their normal state.

Satisfied, he lowered the mirror and reached for the piece of parchment, unfurling the tight coil. Instantly he recognised the headmaster's elegant script.

 _Meet me at my office. Quarter to four, sharp._

Danny crumbled up the note and, glancing at Madam Pomfrey whose efforts had turned to shearing Fred's face, slipped on his uniform blazer and slid directly through the floor. He floated down to a barren classroom a few floors below, dusting off his jacket and opened the door to slip into the sleepy crowds of Hogwarts students trundling their way towards the Great Hall for breakfast.

'Danny!'

He looked over the heads of a group of third years at Sam who stood at the base of the Entrance Hall stairs. Further down he watched Paulina delicately drop her name into the Goblet of Fire before joining the rest of her friends, sneering at the other students as they swept by with a look of superiority. Sam met him halfway, eagerly waving a strip of parchment.

'What's this?' he asked.

'I figured it out!' Sam hissed under her breath, motioning to the cup, 'Shoving it to the man, you can beat them at their own game!' She unfurled the piece of parchment, on which she'd scribbled on in her messy handwriting.

 _Danny Fenton, Casper Magical Seminary._

'Sam!' he nearly yelled, catching the surprised looks of some nearby students, 'Are you crazy? I can't compete in the tournament!'

'Sure you can,' she said, 'This is your chance to prove to the Ministry that you aren't just some mindless creature.'

'It's a sure way to get me exposed — I'm not here on vacation. This isn't a trip to a five-star resort.'

She gave him an ugly look, 'I'm not an idiot, you know.'

'Yeah, well you're acting like one.'

Her expression darkened even further, 'Fine. Do what you want. But just so you know even Mikey gave his name this morning. You wouldn't want to be the only one of us who didn't enter, right?'

Danny glared at her hard. Sam stared back, dangling the paper in front of him temptingly. With a resigned sigh, he snatched up the parchment and stomped his way toward the cup. Just outside the age-line he paused, staring nervously at the blue-fired chalice that crackled in false warmth.

'What's the matter, Fenton?' came the cackling voice of Dash Baxter who was lumbering his hulking form over to where Danny stood, 'Too scared to try out, are you?'

Dash's loud booming voice was met with the cackling of Kwan and his friends who high-fived each other, shouting, 'Good one, Dash!'

Dash's chest puffed up at the praise and he sneered at Danny, egged on by his friends, 'Here,' he offered, 'Why don't I give you a little help.'

Dash smacked a meaty hand against Danny's back, nearly sending him tumbling straight into the cup. Danny quickly latched onto the pedestal and hauled himself upright, sending Dash a nasty look.

'Nice one, man!' came the raucous laughter of one of Dash's dim-witted friends. A few of the nearby Durmstrang and Hogwarts students sniggered from nearby and, embarrassed, Danny reluctantly thrust his name into the cup and hurried out of the hall.

'Danny!' he heard Sam call out, rushing after him. But he was too annoyed to talk to her, flitting into invisibility and out of sight.

ΔOl

Danny's first official class at Hogwarts was Potions. The dungeons were cold and damp – a stark contrast between the bright, clinical laboratory that Felluca kept pristine at Casper. His old Potions professor was a short man with high expectations. As a result only three students, including Danny, had managed to make it to NEWT levels.

Standing in front of the Potions classroom was an eclectic mix of Hogwarts students talking in friendly tones to each other; Sarah Gibson and Rawletta Spires, the two other Casper students, stood at the centre of the group, happily chatting to a bunch of Ravenclaws.

The heavy door to the classroom creaked open and Danny saw a tall, sallow-faced man with a long nose glare down at the group through greasy black hair.

'Get in.' The man ordered.

One by one, the students wandered in, the cheerful conversations dissipating as the heavy weight of the Potions room bared down on them. The walls were lined with jars of unknown substances, rows of tables with large pewter cauldrons had been scattered systematically throughout the room, designed to inhibit conversation. Danny took a seat at one of the tables on the far side of the room, noting the empty stool next to him. The rest of the room quickly filled up, Gibson and Spires snagging a table at the front – they had always been Felluca's favourite and were obviously hoping for the same praise.

The door snapped shut behind the professor and he strode to the front of the room. 'It appears that we have a few extra students in this class,' the professor spat, turning to face the class, 'The Headmaster has decided to extend his hospitality to some outlying guests and as a result I am expected to accommodate them. However, I suspect that Casper's standards are far below the requirements of my own.' Gibson and Spires seemed to wilt under the professor's gaze.

'For those of you that don't know,' the man continued, weaving his way through the tables, staring at the stony-faced students, 'I am Professor Snape, the Potions Master here at Hogwarts. I expect no less than your complete attention. You are to listen to everything I say, do everything I do and hopefully by the end of this class I will not believe you to be a complete imbecile.'

Snape paused beside Danny's desk with a raised eyebrow. Danny stared coolly back – he had played this game before with Tetslaff on multiple occasions. Snape scoffed under his breath before turning to the empty seat beside him.

'Where's Diggory?' he drawled impatiently.

'Er,' stuttered one of the students accented in yellow, 'I believe he was talking to Professor Sprout, sir. About his Head Boy duties?'

'If Diggory is going to be missing even a second of this class he should ask permission from me, not Professor Sprout. Head duties should not interfere with class time.'

'Well, yeah, but—'

'Sorry I'm late!' called a voice. A gallant-looking boy strode through the door with tousled hair and pink cheeks. He was panting like he had sprinted the distance from the Great Hall to the dungeons, 'Professor Sprout just wanted to ask me—'

'Yes, I'm already well aware of your excuses, Diggory. Five points from Hufflepuff for tardiness. Now take a seat.'

Diggory frowned slightly before slinking his way across the classroom into the only available seat next to Danny. He nodded at him, which Danny returned in kind.

'Now,' Snape swept his black robes around him, striding to the front of the room beside a blackboard. Flipping the board on its hinges, Danny was faced with one of the most convoluted and difficult potions he had ever seen. The preparation alone would take nearly half the class.

'Draught of the Living Dead.' Snape announced, 'Only the most well-practised potioneers succeed in properly brewing it. If you have been admitted into my class then I expect nothing less than an Outstanding. Anyone below… then I would strongly suggest to your professors that your standards be reassessed.' He stared pointedly at the Caspers. Danny ignored the urge to roll his eyes.

'You will be working in pairs for this potion. The person seated next to you will be your partner until the December holidays. Begin.'

The students in the room scattered, hurrying to the pantry hidden in the recesses of the room. Diggory turned to Danny with his hand outstretched, 'Hey, so I guess we're partners then? Name's Cedric.'

'I'm Danny.' he replied, shaking his hand earnestly. Cedric looked satisfied at this, turning to look at the board.

'So how should we go about this? I'm pants at Potions – it's my worst class.'

 _Pants?_ 'You made it into NEWT-level. You can't be that bad.'

Cedric snorted, 'By sheer luck. If Snape had been handing out the results for my OWLs, I would have gotten a Troll.'

'What? No. He seems too sweet to ever fail anyone.' Danny muttered sardonically, watching Snape swoop around the room like an overgrown bat, snapping at a group of terrified students for taking too much sloth brain.

His partner laughed, standing up from his stool, 'Come on, let's go grab our stuff. I'll weigh the ingredients if you do the preparations?'

'Hardly seems fair.' Danny fired back, 'Why do I have to do all the work?'

Cedric shrugged, 'It's either that and I accidentally set another potion on fire. This way we both avoid failing.'

'You better be sharp with those scales – down to the grain.'

'Deal,' Cedric grinned, hopping from his seat. He disappeared into the storage pantry with the other students. Danny sighed, pulling out a sheet of parchment to copy down the ingredients. Snape seemed the type to wipe the board clean halfway through as a test.

Cedric returned to the table, arms laden with bottles. He quickly organised them, picking the ingredients they would need first and acutely measuring them with a swiftness that surprised Danny. Danny hefted a mortar and pestle off a supply bench and got to work in crushing the root of asphodel.

The hour swept by with minimal fuss. Cedric had long finished measuring the ingredient and was watching as Danny struggled to squeeze the juice out of the chopped Sopophorous beans. The room had fallen into complete silence as the students tentatively sifted wormwood into their cauldrons. Already Snape had hounded on more than one student for stirring their potion anti-clockwise.

'Give me two more Sopophorous beans.' Danny muttered.

'What?' Cedric blinked, turning to the list, 'But the potion only calls for twelve?'

'Yeah, well twelve isn't enough.'

'I'm not sure—'

'Is there a problem?' Snape sauntered his way over to glare down at the pair. Cedric gave a nervous glance at Danny but didn't say anything.

'Well?' Snape pressed.

'This recipe sucks,' Danny states stubbornly, 'There isn't enough juice in just twelve Sopophorous beans. Cutting them is a stupid method.'

The room seemed to hold their breath as Snape paused, 'What would you suggest then?'

'Shut up, Danny.' Cedric hissed in warning. Snape raised a hand in his direction before gesturing for Danny to go on.

'I dunno,' Danny leaned back in his seat, frustrated at Snape's demeaning attitude, 'Crushing them, maybe?'

Snape's lips disappeared into a thin white line. Danny felt Cedric shift his seat away, eager to separate himself from him.

'It appears that you are not as foolish as I first thought,' Snape looked like it pained him to admit it. 'Any good potioneer would recognise that cutting the Sopophorous beans is not the most efficient way to gather the juice,' Cedric looked shocked at Snape's appraisal, but he wasn't done.

'However,' the professor gave a thin smile, 'It is not your job to dictate how to prepare the Draught of the Living Dead. Your job is to follow directions, Mr… Fenton, was it?'

'Yes.'

Snape stared down at him in disdain, 'I don't have the authority to give you detention but be warned, one more smarmy slip out of you, Mr Fenton, and I will have you kicked out of this class. Is that clear?'

'…Yes, sir.'

'Good. Stick to the recipe.' Snape ordered, turning with a flick of his robes to harass another pair of students.


	7. Scrimgeour's Evaluation

Chapter 7: Scrimgeour's Requirements

ΔOl

Dumbledore's office was exactly what Danny expected. High ceilings arched into a magnificent dome, and the curved walls housed an eclectic mix of bits and bobs that occasionally hooted or whistled or dinged or rumbled. Dumbledore sat on the far end of the room with his desk raised on a marble dais, scribbling away with a fantastically red quill; the wall behind him housed a series of slumbering portraits. To his left sat a beautiful phoenix on a perch — its crimson and gold plume glistened like fire under the afternoon sun.

Carefully, he rolled up his parchment and offered it to the phoenix who obediently lifted its leg out before letting out a sorrowful note to disappear in a whirlpool of flame.

Danny flopped into the chair opposite Dumbledore. 'Your Potions professor is a total jerk.'

Dumbledore didn't look in any way surprised, 'Oh, really? I've always been under the belief that Professor Snape is one of the best potion masters in the country.'

'Liar.' Danny snorted, 'He's just run the rest of them out of Scotland.'

'A rather broad presumption but there are more important matters to discuss than my staff's infamy. A source of mine has alerted me that it is due time for Phantom's official meeting with the Ministry.'

Danny groaned, 'Seriously? How was I supposed to know that?'

'You weren't.' Dumbledore explained calmly, 'The Ministry will take any chance it gets to take advantage of its agreement with the MACUSA, even if it means slandering your name.'

Danny clicked his tongue, nonplussed. 'When's the meeting supposed to start?'

'My source has told me that the Ministry is to be expecting Phantom a quarter past four this afternoon.'

'How am I supposed to get all the way to London in ten minutes? I can't Apparate.'

'Nor could you on Hogwarts grounds.' Dumbledore waved a ring-laden hand at the far corner, where a fireplace with a brass dragon-head stoker stood proudly, 'However, you are certainly free to use my fireplace. You should find Rufus Scrimgeour on level two in the Auror department.' He smiled warmly, 'I suspect you'll be back in time for the Tetrawizard announcements.'

'You're not coming?' Danny frowned deeper.

Dumbledore crossed his hands in front of himself, 'I'm sorry to say that with the tumultuous relationship I hold currently with Minister Fudge, it is pertinent that I do not openly include myself in any further relations with you, lest the Minister begins to suspect that we are plotting against him, as he is wont to do.'

'Whatever, dude.' Danny pushes himself to his feet, striding over to the fireplace. A burlap sack sat on the mantle, filled to the brim with a chalky sand that he recognised as Floo Powder. Snatching up a handful, he flung it onto the fire as light enveloped him, transforming him from the inconspicuous Fenton into the notorious Phantom, and, without saying goodbye, floated into the green flames. 'Ministry of Magic, London!'

Instantly, he felt himself swept off his feet in a nauseous wave of spinning. Soot and flames rushed past his face in a whirlpool of heat, but as quickly as it started his boots slammed themselves firmly on the ground. With a small cough, he stepped out of the fireplace to find himself in a gigantic room with shining dark wood floors and a peacock-blue ceiling accented in golden symbols that swirled and shifted. Rows of fireplaces were organised systematically against parallel walls where Ministry workers were queued up in turn, preparing to leave after a long day's work.

'Get out of the way! Can't you see there's a line?' Grouched a particularly moody wizard, elbowing Danny out of the hearth and bellowed his location, disappearing in a stream of green flames.

Danny shoved a hand through his hair to dislodge the soot before delving deeper into the Ministry's atrium. A large golden fountain took up the centre of the room — it would have been beautiful if its figures were not so abhorrently put on display. He scrunched his nose at the sight of a wizard and witch standing proudly in the centre of the pool of water, wands arise, surrounded by magical creatures who stared up at them with an unbridled adoration that he bet solid galleons on that no real goblin or centaur would ever show.

Past the fountain was a collection of old, worn-looking lifts. Floating his way inside he found a rather meek-looking attendant who stared at him with startled eyes and a flurry of paper planes flitting over his head who were dive-bombing the floor buttons insistently before returning to float around the ceiling.

'W-which floor number... sir?' asked the attendant.

'Two.' Danny hissed as a plane clipped his ear while executing a loop-de-loop.

The attendant hastily pressed the button and the lift rose at a much smoother pace than the MACUSA's. More than once, much to the discomfort of the attendant, the lift would stop to let the paper planes off, only to be replaced by more. More than one wizard had moved to step into the lift, but after catching sight of Danny hovering above the floor with glowing eyes and a deep scowl, seemed to change their mind, instead choosing to wait for the next one.

Eventually, the lift slowed to a stop and the attendant opened the gate, nervously stuttering, 'L-l-level two, Dep-p-partment of M-magical Law Enforcement, the Improper Use of M-magic Office, Auror Headquarters and Wizengamot Administration S-s-services.'

Before Danny could ask where he was supposed to go, the bellboy had slammed the gate behind him and zoomed out of sight.

With another roll of his eyes, he began to make his way down the corridor that housed the Auror Headquarters. Heavy unmarked oak doors lined the rather plain passageway to curve out of sight. A girl who couldn't be more than a few years older than him with short, bubblegum pink hair was crouched off to the far side, hastily picking up a stack of papers that had scattered across the floor.

Danny leant down to pick up some of the papers closest to him and offered them to her. 'Er... here.'

The girl glanced up with a look of surprise that quickly melted away into a gleeful grin and she bounded to her feet, snatching the papers out of his hand to replace it with her own.

'Blimey, I can't believe it! You're Danny Phantom!' She said, shaking his hand furiously, 'I've read all your case-studies — you were amazing on the Castro case! Not that you got much actual mention in it, but you'd have to be daft to not see the holes in all that fodder Pinforth drafted up as the actual breakdown — _as if_ he was able to perfectly mimic a banshee cry — man's more useful as a paperweight than an Auror. Don't think he'd know a Death Eater from his own mother! You're legendary around here.' She gave him a wink.

Danny's cheeks glowed as pink as her hair, 'Er, thanks. Who are you?'

The girl shoved the papers into her robes and stated, 'The name's Tonks. You must be here to see Scrimgeour, right?'

'Yeah, d'you know where I'm supposed to go?'

'Of course, come on! Pretty sure Scrimmy's got his whole calendar wiped for this meeting — that's rare, lemme tell you. Man would rather work than sleep. Me and a few of the boys have got a bet going on whether he's actually a vampire...' Tonks walked over to a door on her left, shoving it open with her hip and gesturing for Danny to follow.

He found himself in a large room separated by wooden partition walls that acted like cubicles — dozens of photos of wanted and suspected criminals floated overhead, trying desperately to slip away into mouse-cracks and duck behind desks to hide from the Aurors investigating them. Witches and wizards turned to watch as Tonks barged her way down the aisle, mouths agape. Danny nodded at them cordially, not completely comfortable with being stared at. The most experience he'd had with Aurors was with his MACUSA liaison, Auror McAlaster who was renowned for his moody disposition and relentless chain-smoking of goblin-crafted cigars.

They reached a reception desk where a man sat staring daggers at Tonks. 'Hey, Milford, mind letting us through? We've got an urgent meeting with Scrimmy right now.'

'For the last time, Tonks, the answer is _no_. You can't keep planting garlic in Mr Scrimgeour's drawers. It took nearly a week to find the last bunch. The whole office complained about the smell! And stop calling him 'Scrimmy'!'

Tonks huffed, 'That was an accident, I swear. I misplaced my lunch that day — anyway, I'm here on actual duty,' she jutted a thumb out at Danny behind her, 'Boss-man has a meeting.'

Danny gave a small wave at Milford who turned to him and jolted like he had been hit with a stinging hex. He sprung from his seat, dashing over to the heavy door off to the side of him, 'Of course! S-sorry, Mr Phantom, I didn't see you there! Let me go tell him you've arrived!'

Milford slipped into the room and Danny felt an elbow nudge him in his side, 'See I told you. You're legendary around these parts. Most of the department's been trying to convince the MACUSA to lend you to us for years.' Tonks grinned.

Scrimgeour's office door creaked open and Milford gestured for him to enter. Tonks clapped him on the shoulder with a cheery, 'Catch ya, Phantom! Don't worry about Scrimgeour, he's all bark.'

Danny waved at her as she slipped past the narrow cubicles further into the room, Despite her assurances he could feel the sweat start to gather on the back of his neck. Carefully he nodded at Milford and stepped through the door.

Scrimgeour's office was nowhere near as grand as Dumbledore's. Papers and news clippings were plastered to the walls, threads of glistening magic pinning together clues. A globe sat off to the side, making slow rotations on its axis; hundreds of thousands of tiny lights blipped merrily. Every so often one of the lights would flare red. A foe-glass was propped up next to it and Danny could make out the vague shadows of his face staring darkly back at him. In the centre of the room stood a war-ridden desk that looked like it had seen better days; a matching chair had been placed in front of the no-nonsense looking wizard who sat opposite.

Rufus Scrimgeour was very composed. Instead of the wild tenacity and paranoia that Moody had shown weeks ago — spouting on about war-stories and neurotic nonsense — Scrimgeour was calm and reserved, like an old lion slightly past his prime but adamant about maintaining his role in the pride.

He didn't look up as Danny swept his way into the room, staring in amazement as parchment stamped themselves systematically as 'approved' or 'denied' before folding themselves into planes and zipping out of the room. Scrimgeour, focussed on a large stack of parchment, waved at Danny to sit. The pair sat in silence, Danny barely breathing in fear of breaking the quiet before Scrimgeour heaved a sigh, placing down his quill to open a drawer and pulling out a surprisingly thin collection of papers.

'It was not my decision to call you in.' He started, sounding more than a little displeased, 'The Minister feels that all this nonsense with Sirius Black has affected people's trust in the Ministry — that the Auror Department is no longer capable of doing its job despite our records.' He flung the papers at Danny who caught them deftly, 'I can't tell whether they've hired you to make us look incompetent or to make Black seem like a criminal mastermind.'

'Could be both,' Danny offered humourlessly skimming through the package, unimpressed by the vague guesses on the potential whereabouts of Black. From what Danny could make of it, their most recent intel suggested Black was hidden away somewhere in the bowels of Paraguay.

Scrimgeour stared at him with a grim expression, 'The last thing this division needs is an upstart excuse of a shade pretending that it has any experience outside of sheer dumb luck.'

Danny's hands twitched into fists, his nails biting into the parchment. 'Funny. From what I've read you guys are in need of some dumb luck. Heard you couldn't even keep track of an entire clan of Death Eaters at the Quidditch World Cup!'

There was a long pause as Scrimgeour stared him down but this timed Danny refused to be bowled. The old man's lips twitched in annoyance before he placed his hands on the desk and lifted himself up, circling his way around to reach the globe where he pressed a finger against one of the red lights.

'I have on good suspicions that Sirius Black has left South America and has been making his way steadily back to England. We think it has to do with the Death Eater's showing up at the World Cup. If we're correct, It's more crucial than ever that we find Black before he reunites with You-Know-Who's followers.' Scrimgeour heaved a deep sigh, 'We're thinly spread. There has been an uproar following the Dark Mark and people are more nervous than ever.'

'So what do you want me to do?' Danny asked, slumping in his chair belligerently.

The Auror strode over to the door, pulling it open with a sharp bark of, 'Caldwell! Tonks! My office.'

An exuberant-looking Tonks burst her way into the room and Danny swore that her hair was shifting into a jubilant apple red. A man followed closely behind her, his robes clean-pressed and neat, his moustache trimmed and his hair parted in a manner that was meant to disguise his receding hairline.

'Wotcher, Phantom!' Tonks says with a small wave which he hesitantly returns. Caldwell simply sniffed in distaste.

'There have been sightings of a man that fit Black's description in the south of England, Auror Caldwell and Junior Auror Tonks are heading there to see if the rumours are true.'

'And you want me to go with them,' Danny surmised.

Caldwell sniffed again before pointedly turning to Scrimgeour, 'It's bad enough you want me to work with this hooligan,' he gestured to Tonks who rolled her eyes, 'But do you really expect me to work with that _thing?_ '

Danny sneered, looking Caldwell up and down, 'I could ask the same. No wonder your Auror's are failing if this is the best you've got.' He quipped.

Tonks poorly hid a snicker as Caldwell's neck coloured a mottled puce, his hands gripping into tight fists as he glared at Danny. Scrimgeour raised his hands politically, 'That is enough. We don't have time for this. You have a witness to attend to. Junior Auror Tonks, if you would please?'

Tonks nodded exuberantly before striding forward and gripping Danny's arm, sending him a gleeful wink, 'Hold on tight.'

Apparition was not a pleasant experience when you were as pliable as Danny. His insides felt like they had been stretched the length of England only to snap back like an elastic band. The sensation made him feel like he had been turned inside out as he unhooked himself from Tonks.

'You alright, Danny?' He heard her ask from where he had doubled over, gasping for air.

'Yeah,' his breath coming out in cold puffs, 'A little warning next time though. Side-along isn't exactly my favourite.'

'Pathetic,' Caldwell muttered from where he appeared with a pop.

Danny sent him a glare, noticing vaguely that they had appeared next to a set of dimly-lit dumpsters behind a fish and chips shop. Heaving himself upright he glanced out to the grey-skied street where the smell of salt permeated the air. 'Where are we?'

'Just outside Hull,'

Danny jumped. A dumpy-looking woman with mousy brown hair had appeared next to him, looking up at him with dull grey eyes. 'Who're you?'

The woman's face twisted sharply and he was met once again with Tonk's face surrounded by the limp brown hair, 'It's me, silly!'

'You're a metamorphmagus?' Danny asked rhetorically, 'I've never met one before. How do you do it?'

'Born with it. Comes in right handy as an Auror,' she grinned cheekily, 'You can turn invisible, right? Might be best if we try to keep everything low-key.' Danny nodded before letting the cool rush of invisibility flood through his body and he disappeared from sight.

'Wicked.' Tonks muttered before her face morphed back into the bland-looking woman. Caldwell huffed indignantly at the pair but seemed to decide against commenting as he marched his way onto the dingy road.

The streets looked dirty and worn-down, granny-flats tagged in luminescent spray paint and Danny watched as Tonks's sprightly and bubbly walk transformed into an unwelcoming shuffle as to avoid the attention of the boorish locals who littered the streets. Caldwell expertly flicked his wand with a point-me spell from the sleeve of his robes, which surprisingly did not look out of place Danny noted, as one particular woman wandered past in only her dressing gown and slippers, a burnt-out cigarette hanging from her lips.

They took a left onto a narrow street where the street lights were flickering to life. Caldwell straightened out his robes primly before striding his way up to a house with a broken gate. The garden looked like it hadn't seen a lawnmower in years.

'What are we doing here?' Danny muttered low to Tonks.

'We got news that a squib caught sight of someone that looked like Sirius Black. We need to check out all potential sources to see if they're credible. Black is the Ministry's Undesirable Number One — we can't risk any chance of him getting away even if it's the slightest rumour.'

She looked a bit forlorn as she told this to Danny but before he got the chance to ask, Caldwell had rapped sharply on the door. They waited with bated breath as the door creaked open, clattering to a sharp stop by the security chain.

A watery, bloodshot eye peeked out through the narrow gap and a raspy voice asked, 'Who're you?'

'Good day to you, sir.' Caldwell began in the politest tone Danny had heard from him, 'Are you Mr. Dedforth, the squib?'

'Who's askin'?'

Tonks spoke up, 'We're delegates from the Ministry. We heard suspicions that you may have some knowledge about the whereabouts of Sirius Black?'

Danny frowned from where he hovered as the eye peered down at them. 'So wha' if I do?'

'Its highly important to our investigation for you to help lead us in the right direction. Sirius Black is a very dangerous individual—'

'I know who he is.' The eye grumbled.

There was a shuffling from somewhere in the depths of the house, Danny turned his head to see through the narrow gap into the entrance but saw nothing.

'Is there someone in there with you?' Tonks asked.

Dedforth licked his cracked lips, 'Naw, just the cat, s'all. Bloody noisy thing. Wait 'ere.'

The door was promptly shut and Tonks shared a look with a frustrated Caldwell, who in turn shifted his gaze to the left of the invisible Danny. 'Don't even _think_ about getting in our way. You interfere in any way and I'm getting you labelled as a level four dangerous creature for immediate destruction. We don't need some ghastly _thing_ trying to prove themselves.'

' _Caldwell!_ ' Tonks hissed, aghast. Danny sneered at the Auror.

The security chain gave a sharp rattle before the lock turned. Dedforth opened the door wide, revealing a dingy corridor. The house had a musty smell, faintly masking the off flavours of fish and everything was coated in a thin film of dust. Dedforth was no better. He stood by the entrance, back hunched from years of bad posture and looking like he hadn't bathed in weeks, his dressing gown stained and oily dark hair sat flat on his scalp. The two Aurors stepped forward into the house as Danny floated after them, settling himself by the foot of the stairs.

'We won't take up too much of your time.' Caldwell sniffed as he looked about disdainfully, poignantly avoiding touching Dedforth as he brushed imaginary grime off his pressed robes. Tonks looked less perturbed by the lack of cleanliness as she waltzed her way in. 'Perhaps we could discuss your claim in the sitting room?'

Dedforth didn't reply as he shuffled his way down the corridor, leaving the others to follow after him. The sitting room was a squashed collection of mismatched couches of varying levels of deterioration. Dedforth eased himself into a rather hideous-looking floral recliner with one of the arms missing while Caldwell and Tonks sat on the cramped corduroy couch opposite. Caldwell, much to Danny's amusement, was propped right on the edge, obviously trying to avoid touching anything as much as possible.

'Right,' he said, moustache twitching, 'Like we said Mr Dedforth, we're here on sources that you may have crucial information on the whereabouts of the notorious criminal, Sirius Black—'

'I don't give nothin' fer free.' Dedforth spat out.

Caldwell blinked furiously, looking rather off-put. 'I-I... right. Well, what are you asking for?'

'Twenty galleons.'

The Auror sputtered furiously,'T-twenty galleons? Are you joking?'

'Yeh said that my knowledge was crucial. The more crucial it is, the higher the cost. What if Black came after me next? I need a lil' compensation here.'

'Twenty galleons seems a little steep though, doesn't it?'

' _Shut up, Caldwell_.' Tonks muttered.

Dedforth raised a greedy brow, 'Yer righ'. Fer such a terrifying criminal it should be at least thirty. I can't be sticking me head out fer nothin'.'

Caldwell looked on the verge of apoplectic. Whipping out his wand, he bellowed, 'Now, see here you—!'

'Honestly Caldwell, shut it!' Tonks snapped, yanking the wand out of her partner's hand. 'Mr. Dedforth, we just need to know what happened, I can promise no harm will come to you by revealing Black's location.'

'After he jus' pulled a wand out at me?' Dedforth's voice rose to near-hysterical, 'I don' wanna give you any information now! Thinkin' yeh can intimidate me with yer magic and spells? _Bah!_ '

'We can promise you, Mr. Dedforth, we would _never_ use magic against you—'

'And I'm just s'pposed to take yer _word_ for it? I'm not tellin' yeh nothin' unless you get rid of yer wands!' Dedforth demanded, 'Then I'll talk. I don't want none of you tryin' t' pull a fast one on me.'

'Our wands?' Tonks stuttered, 'We can't—'

'Fine,' Caldwell snapped, snatching up both his and Tonk's wand and tossing them at Dedforth's feet, who swiped them up in his gnarled grip. The man stared at the wands with a fervent want that left the hair on the back of Danny's neck standing.

'How much does the Ministry value their employees?' Dedforth asked in a low, even voice.

'I-I'm sorry?' Tonks was shifting her weight, sending glances at the front door. Dedforth's whole being had seemed to change in a matter of seconds. He seemed to be sitting taller, his bloodshot eyes now staring razor-sharp, fingers tapping on the remaining arm of the recliner in a calculated pattern.

'How much would the Ministry pay for the safety of two of their prized Aurors?' Dedforth repeated. 'Surely more than a measly thirty galleons?'

'How dare you—!'

'As if Sirius Black would be anywhere near here — he's probably halfway across the world by now.' Dedforth twirled Tonk's wand in his grip before pointing the end at the two of them, 'And if you had any sense you woulda been too. _Incarcerous!_ '

Caldwell let out a sharp bark as thick ropes shot out of the wand, wrapping around him and sending him crashing to the floor.

Tonks gasped, jumping to her feet, 'You're not a squib!'

'Of course not, you stupid girl!' Dedforth laughed, aiming the wand at her. Danny heard the thundering of feet above him as two rough-looking wizards clambered down the stairs, grinning darkly.

'Anti-Apparation spells are up,' gloated one of the wizards, revealing crooked yellow teeth, 'There's no gettin' outta here anytime soon. Not even a ghost could sneak in 'ere.'

'Good work, Pegas. Squabs, keep an eye on the entrance, we'll be looking for a welcome party soon.' The other wizard, with long greasy hair swept his way out of the room deeper into the house.

Tonks looked out of her depth, sending horrified glances at Caldwell who was cursing furiously before Dedforth flung a lazy _silencio_ at him, 'We really only need one Auror fer bargainin'. Don't really have a need for two, but now we have a choice on which one we keep...' Pegas sneered as they pointed their wands at Tonks.

Danny lunged, narrowly avoiding an organ liquifying curse to summon a shield that wrapped its way around Tonks and Caldwell. The room glowed bright green and Dedforth let out a small squeal as his ripping curse was flung back at him, leaving a deep gash in his recliner.

'The hell is tha'?' Pegas barked out. Danny flung himself forward, ramming Pegas into the wall and flooding it with intangibility. The wood slipped out from under him and Pegas let out a scream of fright. With another firm shove, Danny embedded him deep into the floral wallpaper, his arms trapped in the foundations of the house.

Squabs stood in the corridor horrified and slowly raised his hands in surrender. Danny rolled his eyes at the pitiful look on the man's face, sending a quick blast of ectoplasmic residue at him and sticking him to the door.

Danny froze at the sound of a sharp yelp, 'Tonks!' he yelled fearfully, flying back into the room, only to find the Auror in all her pink-haired glory standing above Dedworth grasping at a bloody nose as he grovelled pathetically at her feet.

Danny couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up in his throat from escaping. Tonks gave him a wry grin in reply. 'Can't let you have all the fun, can I, Phantom?'

ΔOl

The attendant looked close to fainting as Phantom and Tonks stepped into the lift, Dedforth, Pegas and Squabs flung over his shoulder like a sack of mandrakes.

'Talk about embarrassing.' Tonks groaned as the doors slid shut, 'Not even a single clue to where Black is. At this rate the Aurors are going to be the laughing stock of the Ministry. Couldn't even take on a few lowlife thugs without the help of the famous Phantom.'

Danny shrugged, 'Don't worry about it. Caldwell's probably already in Scrimgeour's office blaming me for all of this anyway.'

Tonks looked unhappy but didn't argue the fact. The lift came to a jolting stop, causing the three dark wizards on to groan in pain as Danny hefted them higher. The attendant hurried to fling open the doors before shoving himself into the farthest corner. Danny shot him a sardonic smile causing Tonks to slug his arm with a hiss, ' _Be nice_.'

'Ouch! Careful.' Danny moaned as they wandered they way down the corridor. 'I might drop them!'

'If you do, drop them on their heads,' Tonks snickered.

'There he is!' Caldwell shouted, storming his way over to the pair as they stepped into the office. Scrimgeour and a handful of other Aurors followed close behind as Caldwell stopped a few feet away from the pair and flinging an accusing finger in Danny's face, 'This _creature_ disrupted our investigation! We were on the verge of finding out where Black was located when this _thing_ nearly killed not one, but three potential witnesses! He's a menace, a disgrace!'

Tonks crossed her arms furious and stormed right up to Caldwell, 'Don't blame Danny for this! You're the idiot that gave up our wands — did you even double-check the files to see if he actually was a squib?'

Caldwell's skin turned a nasty shade of yellow before he skittishly turned to an unreadable Scrimgeour, 'See! I told you! He's twisted her mind with dark magic! Made her believe that we are the enemies!'

'If I had that kind of power, don't you think I would have used it on you instead?' Danny asked irritated.

Caldwell let out a gasp, 'Did… did you hear that? He threatened me!'

'That's enough, Caldwell.' Scrimgeour stated sharply, 'Head back to your desk for now and complete your report. You two,' he gestured to Danny and Tonks, 'Follow me. Leave those three out here.'

Tonks shared a nervous look with Danny as Caldwell gleaned down at the pair, confidently strutting over to the small cubicle and pompously pulling out a slip of parchment and waving it at Danny. Danny shot out a short puff of ice, freezing the ink jar solid before heaving the three wizards onto the floor and following after Tonks and Scrimgeour.

'Close the door,' Scrimgeour stated coldly from his chair as he slipped his way into the room. Tonks was already seated, looking nervously back at him, her hair flickering from pink to purple anxiously. Forcing himself to take a deep breath, Danny lowered himself into the remaining chair.

Scrimgeour yanked a piece of parchment out from underneath a Quick-Quotes Quill which had been scribbling furiously, its acid-green feather nearly a blur, before stretching it flat and bowing his head to read each letter clearly and concisely.

Tonk leaned over to Danny carefully and whispered in his ear, 'It'll be alright. Scrimgeour's fair — he's got a pensieve tucked away in one of his drawers that he uses to gather evidence, I found it when I was planting garlic the other week.'

Danny gave her a soft grin, before turning back to Scrimgeour who had lifted his head from the drafted report. 'Deadforth was not a squib,' he stated more than asked.

'Yes, sir.' Tonks answered, 'It was a ploy — he didn't really have anything on Sirius Black. Phantom was just protecting us! Without him—!' Scrimgeour raised a hand, making Tonks pause, before turning to Danny.

Danny met his eyes and nodded solemnly, 'I did get in the way of the investigation, but I couldn't risk anyone getting hurt.'

Scrimgeour rested his head on his fingers and stared deeply into Danny's face, seeming to measure each twitch of a muscle and blink of his eyes before he leaned back. 'Very well, I will assess this matter in deeper detail and organise for the arrest of Deadforth and his associates for hindering a high-priority case. Phantom, we will owl you when we have more accurate information about the whereabouts of Sirius Black. Tonks, bring Caldwell in here if you would please, I need to have a thorough discussion with him.'

Tonks and Danny stood, grinning to each other as they stepped out of the office. Tonks clapped him on the back and gave him a heartfelt, 'Thanks, Danny. We'll talk later, yeah? I want to learn more about the Castro case.' With a wink she wandered around Deadforth and his cronies, who were still lying splayed across the floor outside Scrimgeour's office, bound tightly with magicked ropes, over to Caldwell to smugly order him into the Head Auror's office.

With his own grin, Danny strode out of the Aurors office and through the Atrium into an empty fireplace, 'Dumbledore's office!' he bellowed. With a whorl of green fire he was flung into the circular room to discover Dumbledore standing beside a pensieve, a look of deep concentration on his face as a wisp of glowing string was pulled from his temple to fall into the bowl, upsetting the liquid inside.

He stood quietly as Dumbledore waved his hands, banishing the pensieve out of sight. Slowly, he turned to Danny with a serene smile, 'All is well, I take it?'

Danny shrugged with a small grin, 'They don't hate me, I think.'

'Ah, very good. I was concerned for a moment that you would not make it back in time for the feast. Hogwarts has not seen the Triwizard Tournament for over 200 years.'

'Is that what you're concerned about? Missing the feast pudding? Not that I'd be persecuted and labelled a dangerous creature?'

'Of course not, Danny. I never had any concern for that while Scrimgeour is in charge.' Dumbledore waved an arm towards the door, 'Come now, shall we walk down together? You can tell me all about what happened.'

ΔOl

It's been a weird year. First the bushfires destroying my family's home, then a two-part botched surgery, and now the whole world going through an enforced quarantine. Hope you're all safe and following the rules though, the positive on this quarantine is that it lets me focus more time on hobbies like this!


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